


Connected Lives

by dsa_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1, due South
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-16
Updated: 2003-03-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 20:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11134293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Crossover with Stargate SG1.  When RayK and Daniel Jackson meet a dangerous person from their past, Fraser and Jack O'Neill are left to unravel the mystery.





	Connected Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Connected Lives

## Connected Lives

by Elizabeth Mc

Disclaimer: Due South and its characters are the property of Alliance. Stargate SG1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, Double Secret Productions and Gekko Productions. No money made, no infringement intended.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Carole for her expertise in all things Stargate and Due South. And for pressing me to solidify the plot. This story is much better for her efforts. Thanks also to the group at NewRideForever. Their feedback and encouragement are well appreciated.

Story Notes: There is a lot of background for both Stargate SG1 and for Due South in this story. I tried only to expand on canon and stick with what is known history for all of the characters. Stargate SG1 is a science fiction show where the characters travel to other planets. However, this story is based firmly on earth.

* * *

Daniel Jackson 1973 (8yrs old) 

The social worker pointed out a chair near the back of her office. The small, blond boy obediently sat down and looked directly at her, all wide-eyed worry. As soon as he was settled, he wrapped his arms around his middle and started to rock slowly back and forth. Anne Smith would have been worried if she hadn't already spent the last week in the boy's company. Just a few hours each day but she knew the behavior was normal, at least for him, at least for now. 

The phone rang and Anne picked up the receiver. The boy looked at her, the anxiety so clear, so disturbing in a young child. She turned her face away from him as she listened; hoping he wouldn't realize the news was bad. But, it was bad. There was no way to make it sound better, no way to ease him into it. She hung up carefully. 

Anne couldn't put off telling the boy or moving him into the next phase of his life. She had other children to take care of and her job was essentially complete with this one. Abused children, neglected children, abandoned children and orphans all passed through Anne's life on a daily basis. This boy was no different than any of the others that needed her attention. She had done the best she could for him and would continue to do so but the bottom line remained the bottom line. 

Anne took a breath as she stood up. She straightened her skirt self-consciously before she crossed the room to sit beside the boy. He stopped rocking as he watched her. 

"Nick?" He asked. 

"He can't take you, Danny. He isn't prepared to raise a child. He thinks that living with him isn't the best place for you." 

The boy started rocking again. "There isn't anyone else," he said with just the slightest whine in his voice. Anne felt her heart crack just a little. 

"That's not true, Danny," she said, gently. "We're going to place you in a nice home where there will be people to take care of you." 

"I liked Egypt." 

"I know. But you're an American boy. You need to live in America with other boys like you. It's for the best." 

"There aren't any boys like me. I'm," he shrugged. "I'm different." 

"Now, Danny, you like ice cream, don't you?" The boy nodded. "And you like to play outside?" Another nod. "And you like to explore too, don't you?" 

"Yes." 

"Just like other boys, Danny. You're going to be just fine." 

Anne was surprised when his eyes grew glassy with tears. She hadn't seen him cry before, despite the death of his parents and the sudden extraction from a home that he knew. Despite his grandfather's refusal to even speak with him on the phone, he had steadfastly remained dry-eyed. He blinked and big, round tears slid down his cheeks. Anne pulled him close and then closer still until he lay half across her lap. She held him and stroked his hair while he cried. 

I'm so sorry, Danny, she thought. I wish your parents hadn't died. I wish your grandfather was a decent human being instead of a selfish bastard. I wish your life was still yours. 

* * *

Ben Fraser 1969 (6yrs old)

"I've made a decision, Ben." 

Benton Fraser pulled out the kitchen chair in their tiny kitchen and climbed into it. He stared at the bowl of oatmeal with the bananas sliced on top and his stomach growled. He didn't normally think of eating when his father addressed him but they hadn't been eating very often for the last few days. He stared at the bowl with longing then looked back at his father. 

Robert Fraser looked away from the window towards Benton. "Go ahead, son. I fixed it for you." 

Benton picked up the spoon eagerly. He was careful not to stuff the food in his mouth but it took some effort. He was glad to see the whiskers gone from his father's face and to see him in different clothes. He was starting to worry that his father was broken and he might not be able to get fixed. When Benton thought about not seeing his mother anymore, he felt like maybe he couldn't be fixed either. He stopped eating for a moment and swallowed. He didn't want to think about that right now. Not when his father was starting to look like his father again, starting to talk to him again. 

"I have to go away, son. I'm going to take you to your grandparents' house so they can look after you." 

Benton dropped the spoon. His mother went away and everyone said she wasn't coming back. Now his father was going too? 

"Don't go," he said. 

"I have to, Ben. I have a job to do. You know that." 

"I don't want you to." 

"Don't whine about it. You're not a baby anymore." 

Benton looked away, feeling small and ashamed. He knew his father wanted him to act like a man. It was hard to do though. His mother said that it was fine to be a little boy and that his father just forgot that Ben was little sometimes. But if his mother wasn't coming back then maybe she was wrong and he really needed to be more of a grown-up. 

He bit his lip to keep the tears in. He didn't want to eat anymore so he slid off the chair until his feet touched the ground. He reached up carefully and pulled the bowl off the table and then he set it on top of the cupboard by the sink. He couldn't see into the sink and knew from experience that dropping something inside usually made it break. 

"You've eaten enough, I take it?" His father asked. 

"Yes, sir." 

"All right then. I want you to go pack a bag. Leave the suitcase open so I can see that you've gotten everything." 

"Yes, sir." 

Benton went into his bedroom, pulled the big suitcase out from under the bed and flipped it open. He didn't know what he was supposed to pack since his mother had always done that for him when he went to visit Grandma and Grandpa but he supposed that clothes were the first thing. With a worried glance towards the door, afraid his father might scold him, he took the dream catcher off the wall and put that in before he opened his underwear drawer. 

* * *

Ray Kowalski 1971 (8yrs old) 

"The boy is slow, Mrs. Kowalski. He has the attention span of a puppy. He can't keep up with the reading or the basic math. The glasses make him stand out and that gets him teased, which, of course, leads to fighting. And I'm sorry to be blunt, but your family is Polish. That alone is enough to make him the center of ridicule from the other children. It's not right. It's a shame, really, but there you have it." 

"So, you can't help him. I don't mean to be disrespectful, Sister, but he's eight years old. What should I do? Withdraw him? Perhaps I should put him to work instead?" 

"No, Mrs. Kowalski," Sister Mary Katherine said patiently, ignoring the woman's sarcasm. She glanced over at the tow-headed boy staring out the window while he tapped lightly on the sill and hopped on one foot. "Of course not. But there's only so much we can do. I don't want to keep him back another year. It was difficult enough for him the first time." 

"Then what can I do? Special class, is that it?" 

"No, he doesn't need to be with the special class students, he just needs more personalized care, I think. I'd like to assign a tutor to him. Someone who can help him with the work." 

"How will that help his attention span?" 

"With one on one interaction, I think he'll be more controllable. And a good tutor will know that he needs some discipline to learn to control his impulses." 

"He already comes home with red knuckles, Sister." 

Sister Mary Katherine smiled. "No, Mrs. Kowalski, I don't mean that kind of discipline. I mean repetition and a strong hand. Not spanking, just structure. Your son is a good boy, he's just been blessed with a few extra challenges." 

"Stanley, please close the window," Mrs. Kowalski said. "It's cold outside." 

"Okay, mum. I just wanted to see if I could smell the tree from here." 

Barbara Kowalski grimaced, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Sister." 

"Don't be, Mrs. Kowalski. Your son isn't the first...energetic child I've had here. I doubt he'll be the last." 

"I do like the idea of this tutor. It might help him. Heaven knows he needs something to help him pass. His father and I are at our wits' end." 

"Good. There is a cost for the tutor. We've tried to keep the expense low but if your family can't manage, then I'd like you to call me. We have a special program for that." 

"No, no, thank you but we'll manage. School is very important to Stanley's father. He'll want to do whatever it takes to help him." 

"I'm glad to hear that. We should be able to assign someone to him by the end of the week. What that means is that after regular school ends, he'll meet his tutor and work for an extra hour three times a week. Does that sound all right?" 

"Oh, yes. We live so close to the school, it'll still be early enough for him to walk home, I think. I'll discuss everything with his father tonight." 

Mrs. Kowalski stood up, clutching a black purse in front of her. Sister Mary Katherine stood as well. As the two women turned towards the window, Mrs. Kowalski said, "Stanley, I thought I told you to...Stanley?" 

The boy was gone and the window had been pushed open. 

"Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Kowalski said as the two women rushed across the room. They both leaned out and gasped at the sight of one small boy lying on his back in the grass. His eyes were closed but he was moving. Small, quiet noises drifted up to them. His arm was twisted at a sickening angle. 

Both women started running for the door. Despite Mrs. Kowalski's calf-length dress she edged out Sister Mary Katherine who was dressed in her full habit. 

They reached him at roughly the same time. Stanley cried out when his mother touched him. 

"I'm sorry, mum, I'm sorry. I thought I could touch the tree." 

"Oh, Stanley." 

"I'll call an ambulance," Sister Mary Katherine said. 

* * *

Jack O'Neill 1969 (12yrs old) 

"All right, Jack, here we are. Let's go put you where you belong." 

"I'd rather stay with you," the boy said, sullenly. 

"Fishing isn't a lifetime occupation, Jack. You spend two months with me every summer. Then you get to come home, reconnect with your friends and go back to school. You should be looking forward to it. Now, let's go. Out of the car." 

"I'm going to be a professional fisherman, Grandpa. I don't need school for that." 

"You're going into the Air Force, just like your father did and just like I did. It's in the blood. But you're going to fly, Jack, you're going to touch the stars, you just wait." 

"I'd rather just fish. I like fishing." 

Jack had to laugh when his grandfather rolled his eyes. His grandfather laughed too and squeezed his shoulder. 

"Come on. Your mother will have dinner waiting for us." 

Jack got out and went around to the back of the camper-covered truck. His grandfather put the key in the lock and opened it so Jack could climb inside. He handed out his suitcase first, then his tackle box, then his fishing pole. He climbed back out and picked up the suitcase and the tackle box. He stumbled under the weight but refused to put them down. He heard the lock turn behind him and then his grandfather was walking by his side, carrying the fishing pole and talking about the lures they'd try the following summer. 

He didn't have a free hand so his grandfather opened the front door for him. He set down the tackle box and suitcase with a sigh, rolling his shoulder and hoping his grandfather didn't notice that he'd had to struggle with them. 

"Mom, we're home," he called out. 

A moment later he was being engulfed by warmth. His mother's dress scratched across his cheek. Her perfume smelled sweet and comforting, like home. She stood back but left her hands on his shoulders. 

"I'm so glad you're home, Jack." She turned away from him and kissed Jack's grandfather on the cheek. "It's good to see you too, John." 

"Thank-you, Teresa. The boy had a good summer, caught lots of fish and helped me get the porch re-built." 

"You helped with the porch?" Jack's mother asked, looking at him with a smile. 

"Sure. It was our project this year." 

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Your father will be home in about half an hour. We'll have dinner then, but if you're hungry, there's cake in the kitchen." 

Jack thought the cake sounded promising. He wasn't usually allowed to eat sweets before dinner but since his mother was offering. 

"We can wait," his grandfather said. "We stopped at the market on the way in and had a snack." 

Jack frowned to himself but he didn't argue. "I'll take my suitcase upstairs." 

"Thank you. And the tackle box and fishing pole go in the shed outside." 

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said. 

* * *

Daniel 1978 (14yrs old)

"Daniel, come down here." 

Daniel Jackson placed a bookmark inside the pages of The Count of Monte Cristo. He was amazed at how much better the words flowed in French than in English. He walked down the stairs to the living room, wondering why people didn't just learn the language if they wanted to read foreign books. So much innuendo and subtlety was lost in translation. 

When he reached the bottom of the steps he found Todd and Lydia waiting for him. Standing behind them was their natural son, Connor. At eight years old, Connor preferred football to reading. He made no secret that he thought Daniel was a geek because he liked going to the library and taking long walks over playing organized sports. 

Todd and Lydia weren't the best foster family that Daniel had lived with nor were they the worst. However, he had been with them the longest. Todd was an alcoholic and like a lot of alcoholics, he was an overachiever and somewhat of a perfectionist. Lydia's sole purpose in life was to take care of Todd and Connor and keep peace in the house. She did everything possible to keep Todd from getting upset. Daniel often wondered why she tried so hard since Todd was always upset about something. 

Daniel was startled to see the whole family assembled. 

"Daniel, when I ask you to come down here, I expect you to make it snappy." Todd's low voice made Daniel uneasy. His words were slurred and he had his "drunk" face on. 

"Sorry. I came down as soon as you called." 

"It's a wonder you don't fall more than you do, the way your mind wanders." 

Daniel pushed his glasses back up on his nose and shrugged. He knew he was distracted a lot but there were so many details to consider all the time, so many sides to the same coins. Like why one culture worships one God while another worships several, or why worshipping any God is so essential to the emotional and spiritual well being of people in general. 

Daniel didn't realize that his mind had wandered again until the bitter smell of alcohol filled his nostrils. He stepped back when he found Todd standing inches away from him. Before Daniel could react, Todd's hand was already slapping him and Daniel stumbled backward into the staircase. 

"Todd," Lydia called out. 

"What do you want?" Daniel asked, angry and surprised as he rubbed his cheek. 

"You think just because you're fourteen you don't have to do what I tell you anymore. Is that what you think?" Daniel just stared at him, completely baffled as to what Todd was talking about. 

"What did I ask you to do today?" Todd stood too close, still breathing his rancid breath into Daniel's face. 

"I...I don't know." 

"You don't know." 

"I don't. I'm sorry. I don't." 

"The lawn, Daniel, you remember the lawn, don't you? I told you this morning at breakfast." 

"Oh." It was a misunderstanding, Daniel thought. "You said by the weekend. I thought you meant to do it on Saturday when we usually..." 

Daniel didn't expect the slap and he went down on one knee. His heart picked up where it had left off and he was shaking. 

"Todd, stop," Lydia said. 

"Todd, stop," Todd taunted. "The free ride is over. Connor, go up to your room and make it spotless. I'm so tired of this house being a disaster. Everything out of place, nothing where it should be." 

"I just cleaned, Todd," Lydia said while she shooed Connor up the steps. The boy just glanced at Daniel as he fled. 

"You didn't clean," Todd said. 

"I took care of everything. I did the dishes, I finished the laundry." 

"That's not cleaning." 

Todd grabbed Daniel by the arm and hauled him to his feet. Daniel winced under the tight grip. Todd shoved him towards the back of the house. "Get the lawn done." 

"You know, you just have to tell me what you want," Daniel said, furious at the stupidity of all the commotion. 

"Really? I just have to tell you," Todd raged, grabbing him again. 

Daniel grimaced. "Yes. Really." 

"Todd, let him go." Lydia had finally left the living room and latched on to Todd's arm. He shook her off as if she were nothing. 

Daniel barely saw the fist but at the same time it was like slow motion, Todd's hand clenching, the blur of movement as he brought it up and the sickening crunch of impact. Daniel felt himself flying but he never felt the landing. 

* * *

Ben 1978 (16yrs old) 

Ben crouched beside the series of animal tracks with a frown. He glanced back towards his grandfather's chicken coop and was not at all happy with his conclusion. He made a couple of notes in the pad that he kept in his pocket before wiping his hands off. He went back to the small house that his grandparents were renting. 

"Benton, did you wander off again?" His grandfather asked as he looked up from the newspaper. 

"I was investigating, sir." 

"Aren't you always. Your grandmother wanted you before. I think we're having company tonight and she'll need some help." 

"Yes, sir." 

Benton didn't try to tell his grandfather the subject of his investigation. The older man was perfectly happy with his books, both reading them and providing them for the local populace. He had no interest in Benton's activities beyond making certain that Benton completed his schooling. 

Benton went into the kitchen where his grandmother pulled a baking sheet covered with oatmeal cookies out of the oven. On the counter was a bowl filled with more dough and just down from that the slow cooker was plugged in. In addition to the cookies, the aroma of pot roast filled the kitchen and Benton's stomach growled. 

"Oh, good, Benton, I've been calling you for an age." 

"I'm sorry, Grandmother, I was outside." 

"You usually are." She handed him a warm cookie. "Have you realized the time of year?" 

"Oh." Benton looked down, feeling awkward. He swallowed the bite of cookie that he'd taken. "Dad is coming home." 

"He phoned last night. And he's bringing company, some photographer from Chicago who wants to shoot landscapes. He called it an assignment, though what squiring around a photographer has to do with being a Mountie, I can't imagine." 

"I'm sure the RCMP has its reasons," Ben said, confidently. 

"Maybe you're right." His grandmother stopped to look at him. She put her hands on her hips and smiled. "You've grown. Just sixteen and look at you filling out. Your father will be impressed." 

Benton warmed under the praise. "Thank you, ma'am." 

"I need you to clean out the chicken coop and make sure the dogs are fed before tonight." 

"I'll take care of it. Also, there's a wolf coming on to the property and stalking the chickens. He hasn't been too bold yet but I suspect he will be before long." 

"Just one?" 

"According to the tracks." 

"That's unusual. I wonder what's become of his pack. Well, we can't worry about that. We'll need to lock the chickens up tight then and maybe you can check with Quinn to see if there's something we can use to cover up their odor. I'd like to convince the wolf that there's better eating someplace else if we can. I don't like the idea of traps." 

"I'll ask him. I seem to recall a Inuit concoction that might do the trick." 

"Glad to hear it. Now, go on and get the coop cleaned out. I want everything ready when your father comes." 

Benton gladly went about the chores. He spent the day helping out and by late afternoon they were prepared for company. 

Sergeant Robert Fraser arrived driving a truck that Benton had never seen before. In the cab with him was another man. They both climbed out. 

His father didn't look in his direction at first. Instead he shook the hand of Benton's grandfather and kissed his grandmother on the cheek then introduced his companion. 

"This is Todd Fleming. He's a photographer from America and he's doing a photo shoot for a tourist magazine." 

Fleming stood two inches taller than Benton's father. He had the lean, hard look of someone who didn't appreciate nonsense. He also had the ruddy complexion of someone who might drink too much. 

Finally his father turned to him. "And this is my son, Benton," he introduced. 

Benton shook Fleming's hand first. Then his father reached out and Benton shook his hand also. 

"Dinner's ready," his grandmother said. "Let's go on inside and eat." 

"You've grown," his father commented. 

"Yes, sir." 

"It's good to see." 

* * *

Ray 1978 (16yrs old) 

"Stanley," Barbara Kowalski called. Ray came through the swinging kitchen door in a rush, tucking his shirt in as he did. 

"It's Ray, mum. How many times do I have to tell you?" Ray sat down at the kitchen table and reached for a glass of milk. 

"Don't use that tone with your mother," Damian Kowalski said. 

"Sorry, mum." He slurped the apology around drinking, earning himself a glare from his father. He shrugged as he took his glasses off and set them beside his plate. He reached for a slice of toast. 

"Do you have to wear your oldest blue jeans?" Barbara asked. 

"I like them. They fit right." 

"They practically slide over your hips." 

"They're fine, Barbara," Damian said. 

"Your appointment is at 4:15 today so I need you to come straight home from school," Barbara said. 

"Oh." Ray slumped his head dramatically. "I don't want to go get camera lessons." 

"They're photography lessons and they'll be good for you. You need to do more than just play with your friends. Since you refuse to join an organized sport, then you'll do this instead." 

"You know I can't play basketball because of my eyes and I can't play football because of my weight. And do you have to call it playing with my friends?" Ray complained. 

"There was track. You could've joined track." 

"They meet every Saturday right at the same time I have to go over to Stella's house." 

"Yes, that's right and you'd rather play with your girlfriend than join a sport. That's the real reason, Stanley and you know it." 

"It's a job. I mow their lawn every Saturday and I get paid for it. Having Stella there too is like a...like a..." 

"Bonus," Damian said. 

"Yeah, like a bonus." Ray grinned at his father. 

"Well, you can think of this as a bonus too. Because you are going to take photography lessons and you are going to learn to develop photos. You're very artistic, Stanley, this will be good for you." 

"I can't draw a straight line, mum." 

"But, you're so graceful and you dance so well. I'm sure you're artistic." 

Ray shook his head. He had no idea how his mother could connect dancing with art but he also knew there was no arguing with her. 

"That guy who's going to teach him...you say he works for a magazine?" Damian asked. 

"His name is Todd Fleming and he sells pictures to magazines. I don't think he works for one in particular. He's married and he has two children although one's adopted or something like that. He lives on the other side of town but he's taken a studio not far from here." 

"You sure know a lot about him," Ray commented. 

"Do you think I'd hand you over to anyone? After that bully that tried to tutor you at St. Mary's? I don't think so." 

"That was a long time ago, mum. I'm sixteen now. If Bud Abbott or anybody else tried to whack me now, they'd have a big fight on their hands." 

Damian rattled his newspaper as he folded it. "We should've sued that miserable son of a..." 

"Damian, not at the table." 

"Sorry, Barbara." 

"I gotta go," Ray said as he tipped his cereal bowl to his mouth and drained the milk. "I'll be home by 3:30." He kissed his mother on the cheek and fled out the back door before his father could start yelling about suing the creep that had tried to tutor Ray when he was eight. 

* * *

Jack 1978 (21yrs old) 

Jack O'Neill entered the Windy Diner and took a seat. He had four days of leave to look forward to and the first thing he wanted was food that did not come from a cafeteria. As a newly promoted Second Lieutenant and having just finished some hard core training, he felt a strong need for a little peace. He wanted to breathe without wondering if someone could hear it, he wanted to look at the faces around him and not wonder who would try to kill him next, he wanted to stare blissfully into space and not worry that there was an explosive device nearby. Jack wanted to relax. 

He glanced around the restaurant out of habit as he plucked the menu out of the clip at the edge of the table. He had deliberately chosen a seat by the big, picture window so he could feel the sun against his face. It was a warm day for Chicago, a nice day and he'd be able to eat and still have time to walk to the Hall of Records where he could pick up a copy of his birth certificate. Someone had screwed up and the copy that he had already presented when he joined the Air Force was missing. 

A waitress came to the table wearing huge, gold hoops in her ears and bright blue eye shadow. She took his order for coffee and promised to come back in a few minutes. 

Jack looked up from the menu he was studying when a man raised his voice a few tables over. Jack found himself staring into the eyes of a boy, probably fourteen or fifteen years old. He had a bruise on the side of his face and he flinched when the man with him yelled again. There were other people at the table too. A woman with her back to Jack who kept her eyes on her plate rather than look at the man beside her. And there was another boy, looking pale and embarrassed. He was the youngest person there. 

A tall, overweight man wearing a white cook's uniform came out from around the counter. He walked over to the family's table and whispered something that the father didn't like. Jack stood up and walked over. He had seen family squabbles before and he didn't want this to turn into a free-for-all. 

"I paid my money and I'm not leaving until we're done," the father yelled at the cook. 

"Look, you're disturbing my other customers." 

"Todd, maybe we could just eat quietly and go home. You know, instead of getting tossed out." The boy who had made eye contact with Jack had kept his voice reasonable. 

"Shut up, Daniel. And you, get out of here," Todd said to the cook. 

"Todd, please," the woman said. 

"Excuse me," Jack interrupted. "Can I help you?" 

"Who the hell are you?" Todd asked and Jack smelled the first waft of alcohol. 

"Second Lieutenant..." 

"Go away, this isn't your business." 

Jack turned to the cook. He motioned towards the counter and the cook followed a few steps away from the table. "Would you phone the police?" He asked quietly. 

Then he heard the sound of clattering glass and the mother yelling. Jack turned around to see Daniel lying on the floor beside the booth and Todd climbing out of the booth to get to him. The woman was trying to hold him back and everyone was screaming at once, everyone except Daniel. He was scooting across the floor, backing up. 

Jack stood between him and the man feeling the rage well up like a living beast. 

"Sir, you will stop there," he said, holding one hand up. Todd was taller than Jack and broader but Jack doubted he had any training. If they needed to fight, Jack was confident that he would have him down in a matter of seconds. 

"Daddy, stop," the younger child begged. He was crying and pressed back into the corner of the booth. 

The woman had slipped out and was standing beside Jack, clearly keeping herself between Todd and the older boy. 

"They're on the way," the cook said. 

"Oh, God, the police?" The woman sounded hysterical. 

"This is my family," Todd said though he stumbled back a step. 

"And you've ruined their evening," Jack said. 

"It's okay. We'll just go," Daniel said. Jack glanced behind him to see the boy getting to his feet and straightening his glasses. He was long and thin and pale. The bruise on his face showed up grotesquely against his complexion. 

"Did he do that to you?" 

"What?" Daniel touched his face gingerly. "Oh, that...it was an accident." 

"Punching somebody doesn't happen by accident." 

"You make me sound like a child beater," Todd said, disgustedly and sat in the booth where Daniel had been. The other boy backed away. 

"It's not what you think," Daniel said to Jack. 

"I think he hit you." 

Daniel ducked his head for a moment. When he looked back up he met Jack's eyes. "I've been living with him for a while and he won't win any parenting prizes but this...this is new. He's been under a lot of pressure lately." 

Jack frowned. "How lately?" 

"It's okay. I'm halfway through high school and then I'll be leaving for college so..." Daniel shrugged. 

Jack was surprised by the boy's speech. He sounded older and smarter than he had a right to be. There was a maturity in him that shouldn't be arriving for a few years yet. 

"He's not your father?" Jack asked. 

"Foster parents." The boy seemed to think for a moment and then said, "They're not bad people." 

"You're a little young to be thinking about leaving home, aren't you?" 

"It's all arranged. I'll graduate when I'm sixteen and then I leave for California." 

"Yeah, Daniel, the wonder boy," Todd said, sarcastically. Daniel winced. 

"That's not old enough to be graduating," Jack said. 

"It's an accelerated program." 

Jack was impressed. "I guess so." 

"They're here. Oh, lord, Todd, they'll arrest you for sure." Jack turned his attention back to the woman. 

"Not unless one of you files charges, which, I for one, hope you do." 

Daniel barely glanced from the floor but Jack could see the start of a smile. 

"You really should nail this bastard," Jack said quietly to the boy. 

"No, I shouldn't." 

* * *

Daniel 1980 (16yrs old) 

Daniel walked through the airport terminal with just a knapsack over his shoulder. The rest of his belongings were checked, Lydia and Connor had left him at the curb and Todd had mumbled a good-bye the night before. 

His grandfather, Nick, had made the rest of the arrangements. He had a place to live and his expenses were paid. Even if he hadn't earned several scholarships, his parents had provided for him financially so that wasn't a concern, at least not for the next few years of college. 

He was looking forward to California and making his own life. In the eight years since his parents died he had been unable to make any decisions for himself despite the fact that he was probably better suited to the task than any of the professionals. The first series of foster homes had been miserable experiences while the families weighed and measured his worth. 

The last four years with Todd and Lydia Fleming had been better than those early experiences. The fact that Todd had become a violent alcoholic a couple of years into Daniel's stay detracted somewhat from the security of waking up in the same bed and in the same house every morning. But, it was better than not knowing where or when he'd be shipped out to new people. And, while Todd was focused on Daniel, at least he wasn't focused on Lydia or Connor, which wasn't much of a benefit but it was something. 

Daniel worried about Connor somewhat but he had never seen Todd show any violence towards his real son. And the written report he'd submitted to Anne Smith, his social worker, should prevent the Flemings from qualifying for more foster children. 

He mentally shook off those thoughts. He was done worrying about the Flemings, about social workers and the foster program. He was done wondering where he'd wake up or if he was good enough to be kept around like the family pet. He was embarking on a new life, an adult life. 

Showing his ticket to the stewardess, he was directed towards the center of the plane. His seat was nearest the window, which suited him. He liked looking outside and watching as the ground faded, as the world was left behind. 

In a few hours, he'd be in perpetual sunshine with miles of beaches and mountain roads and scholars like himself who valued reading and studying and learning. He plucked his glasses off, rubbed his eyes and put them back on. A few moments later he had a young girl sitting beside him clutching a Barbie doll and an elderly woman sitting on the aisle. The woman was the child's grandmother. For the next few hours, Daniel learned more about the two of them than he ever wanted to know. 

* * *

Ben 1980 (18yrs old) 

"Grandmother," Ben said as he sat down to breakfast. "What do we know of Dad's friend, Mr. Fleming?" 

"He's a photographer. He's American. He has a wife and a young son." 

"Yes, but, what does he do? Does he just take pictures all the time? Is that enough work to make a living for a man with a family?" 

"It depends on how successful he becomes, Ben. My understanding is that Todd Fleming is quite accomplished." 

Ben rubbed at his eyebrow. "I was doing some research into modern photography and he wasn't mentioned in any of the books." 

His grandmother set a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. She rubbed the top of his head gently. "And that bothers you?" 

"It is suspicious, don't you think?" 

"I think you have a tendency to find mysteries around every corner." 

"But there were so many others mentioned." 

"Well, perhaps you haven't looked in the right places. Why are you so curious about him?" 

Ben swallowed his spoon of oatmeal and wiped a napkin over his mouth. 

"I don't trust him. There's something about him that bothers me. Dad was only supposed to show him around that one trip but he's been back twice since then. And the photos he takes...they aren't scenic. I've accompanied him and pointed out many beautiful and interesting scenes but he's not interested." 

His grandmother nodded seriously but Ben already knew she what she was going to say. 

"Just because he doesn't find your definition of a good photo appealing hardly makes him a suspicious character." 

"Yes, ma'am, but I...I don't like him." 

"You're eighteen years old, Benton, you know better than to judge people that way. In a short time, you'll go to Depot and become a Mountie like your father. Do you think the police judge people by personal opinion?" 

"No, ma'am." 

"That's right. Now your grandfather is out in the barn. Finish your breakfast and go out there to help him." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

His grandmother ruffled his hair again affectionately but Ben couldn't help feeling annoyed. He knew what his grandmother wanted him to say but that didn't mean he always agreed. There was something odd about Todd Fleming, he was certain. 

He finished the bowl of oatmeal, thanked his grandmother politely then went outside to the barn where he and his grandfather were replacing some of the worn out wood. When he opened the door to the barn, he felt a chill of apprehension. 

Venturing inside, he called out for his grandfather. There was no answer. Ben ventured further inside. Walking towards the back wall where they'd been working, he held his breath until he found his grandfather lying with a hammer against his lax palm. 

"Oh, no," Ben said. He knelt down beside him but the older man's eyes were wide and blank. Even as he searched for a pulse, for breath, for a heartbeat, he knew there wouldn't be any. He laid his head on his grandfather's chest, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened. 

It took some time to gather his strength, but once it was possible, Ben left his grandfather to go back to the house. He didn't know what words he would say to his grandmother, how he would tell her that her husband was dead. 

Several hours later, the news had been given, the police had been informed and Ben's father was coming home. Ben sat on the couch of their living room with his grandmother's head against his shoulder while he held her hand. It was the only need she had shown since Ben informed her of the tragic news. 

When Robert Fraser walked through the front door, Ben exhaled with relief. His grandmother looked up from her resting place and slowly stood up while Ben helped to keep her steady. 

"Your father is dead, Robert." 

"I know, mother." 

"All the arrangements were made years ago so there's really nothing to do now except phone the church. Will you take care of that?" 

"Of course." 

"Good. And we'll need to discuss Benton as well. I can't run this place and continue the library alone. We may need to put off Depot for a while." 

Ben looked past his grandmother's shoulder to meet his father's eyes. He hadn't anticipated this possibility. He had been looking forward to joining the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for years. 

"I know, mother," Ben's father replied. 

Ben stared at him helplessly. He could hardly refuse to help his grandmother now but the disappointment overwhelmed him. 

"Just for a short time," his grandmother said. "Just until I can get things organized here." 

Ben's father comforted her for a long time, while Ben listened to them dismantle his life. 

* * *

Ray 1980 (18yrs old) 

"You shouldn't go to college just to please your father, Ray." 

Ray sighed as he leaned into the soft cushions of the couch in Stella's basement. It seemed like he had spent most of his teen years sitting on that couch. First, Stella sat beside him and they watched television and pretended they were the heroes on the screen. Later, they'd used it to experiment with kissing and petting. And finally, while Stella's parents were out of town, they had used that couch to surrender their virginity to each other. 

It only seemed right to be sitting beside her now on that same couch and hash out their future plans. 

"Him and mum have done a ton of work to get me into school. I can't just tell them I'm not going. Besides, you know how my dad feels about me getting an education." 

"It's not up to him." 

"You just want me to move out to California with you while you go to school." 

"That's a rotten thing to say. I'm thinking of you. School has been nothing but torture for you and it's stupid to keep going." 

"Nice subtle jab at my stupidity, Stell." 

"You know I don't mean it like that." She draped herself beside him, resting her head against his thigh and nuzzling her cheek against his belly. "You're not stupid or slow or any of those other miserable things people have said to you. You just don't...you don't think in the same way as the rest of us. You're unique. But, I don't know if that's going to help you in a structured environment like a classroom." 

"It hasn't so far," Ray said as he stroked her hair with one hand while he rubbed the ribs just beside her breast with the other. 

"Then why did you agree to go?" 

"I don't know. I can't disappoint him, not when it means so much to him." 

"You'll only end up dropping out. I mean...I mean...look at the photography lessons you took. You stayed with it, for what, a year, I think. And then you just dropped it when you lost interest." 

Ray pushed her up so he could stand. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "It wasn't like that." 

"Oh, come on, Ray, it was exactly like that." 

Ray couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't tell her that Todd Fleming had refused to continue their lessons. That after a year of meeting with him weekly and becoming kind of like friends, Todd had told him that he was useless with a camera, that he had no talent and that Todd never wanted to see him again. The tirade had been unexpected and cruel and Ray had reeled with the verbal assault. When he couldn't listen anymore, he'd struck out with his fists. He could still see Todd's face, red with rage, fingers held against the blossoming bruise on his cheek. 

Ray had spent a week worrying that the police would come for him at any moment. He'd spent longer than that wondering what he'd done to cause Todd to ruthlessly dispatch him. 

"It's not the same thing. I can do this. I'll go for a couple of years, get a degree to make my dad happy and then I'll do something else." 

"I think you're kidding yourself. No one wants to see you go to school and get a degree more than me. Really. It's the thing to do, everybody knows that. But come on, Ray, you know how you are." 

"You could pretend you have some confidence in me," he said, sullenly. 

Stella glided to her feet with all the grace of an angel. She put her arms around his waist before she pressed smooth lips against his. He pushed his tongue into her open mouth, his cock stirred with longing. When she pulled away, she licked his chin playfully. 

"I believe in you," she whispered. "I just want you to be happy, that's all." 

* * *

Jack 1980 (23 yrs old) 

"So, you're marrying Sara just to keep her happy." 

Jack O'Neill glared at his friend and superior officer, John Michaels. "I never said that." 

"But you don't want to get married." 

"That's not true. I just...I don't know if I want to get married this year, that's all." 

"Can you really see yourself spending a lifetime with one woman. You're still young, Jack, you have all the time in the world to narrow the options." 

"I've been with Sara for a while. She wants to get married. I owe her that much for hanging around during all the training and the missions." 

"That's no reason to get married. I sure hope you didn't put it to her like that." 

"Of course not, I'm just saying." 

"Yeah, I hear you. I give you six months." 

"I appreciate the vote of confidence." 

John Michaels just laughed. He patted Jack roughly on the shoulder before he picked up his tray to dump. Jack watched him as he left the commissary. 

He knew John had a point. But the truth was, he loved Sara. He hadn't met a woman yet who pressed his buttons the way she did. She was a good choice for an Air Force wife. At his age, it could only help his career to get married and she fit in well with the other officers and their families. She didn't like his long absences but she didn't make a fuss about them. And coming home was always good. It could only get better if they were actually living together. 

When he proposed, she hadn't even hesitated. It seemed that she wanted to marry him as much as he wanted her, maybe more. Despite John's misgivings, Jack knew he was doing the right thing. 

* * *

Daniel 1991 

Dr. Daniel Jackson stepped off the plane at the Chicago International Airport. Even after the last few years of living there, he still felt odd every time he landed. Despite growing up in Chicago or maybe because of it, Chicago didn't feel like coming home. It felt foreign and uncomfortable. It shouldn't. He knew that. He wasn't the 8 year old orphan anymore, wasn't the 16 year old foster kid with too much brain and not enough social skills. He was a Doctor of Archeology with a minor doctorate in Linguistics. He was published and respected and with the backing of Dr. David Jordan, he could have his choice of positions in any archeological field. 

For the time being he had chosen to continue working with Dr. Jordan. It was a safe place to continue his personal research. And he could still publish documents and theories that the world accepted while he published other works that they couldn't. 

Dr. Jordan and Steven and Sarah were adamant that he give up his more daring theories. Oddly the only person who supported him was Robert Rothman, his research assistant. And Daniel knew he should be listening to the others rather than Robert. But he couldn't give up on something that he knew was true. Somehow he had to find a way to prove his theories. 

"Excuse me," a woman touched his arm and Daniel turned around. He almost took a step back when he recognized Lydia Fleming. 

She was older, of course, more wrinkles, brassy blond hair instead of gray, a smile that she seemed uncomfortable wearing. 

"Daniel Jackson?" 

"Yes, Lydia. Uh, how are you?" 

She hugged him impulsively and Daniel hugged back, not knowing what else to do with her. He supposed he should feel some sort of affection for her, some inkling of a past relationship but he didn't feel anything. She had fed him and clothed him and remembered his birthday and he knew he should be grateful if nothing else, but he found his emotions absent. 

"You've filled out. And your hair is so much darker. I always said you'd be a good looking boy." 

He colored at the compliment. "How are you and Connor doing? And Todd?" He asked. 

"Connor is...well, he's young and a little bit reckless but you know that's just boys. He's going to straighten right out once he gets through those wild oats." 

"Is he in school or working or..." Daniel asked as he pictured the boy who lived in the room beside his. 

"He's between jobs right now. But he thinks he might start at the community college next semester." 

"That would be good," Daniel said, hoping he sounded encouraging. 

"I knew you'd understand. Connor liked you, Daniel. He missed you after you left." 

"He was a good kid." 

"I know...the brother you never had." Lydia's voice was wistful. Daniel didn't have the heart or the desire to correct her misperception. 

"So, are you going somewhere or arriving?" He asked. 

"I just flew in from Colorado. Todd lives there now so I spend most weekends visiting." 

"You didn't move with him?" 

"No...no...I like Chicago and I think the move is just temporary. You know Todd, he's always looking for a new place to work." 

Daniel didn't know what to say. It seemed wrong to make small talk with the woman who almost, sort of, kind of raised him but he had no idea what to say to her. 

"What about you, Daniel? Tell me about your life?" 

"I'm a Doctor of Archeology," he said, glad to be on familiar territory. "I work with a team here in Chicago." 

"An archeologist? Oh, my, that's so interesting. Are you married? Do you have children?" 

"No, I, uh, I haven't married." 

Lydia looked away from him, blinking rapidly and Daniel was afraid she was going to cry. 

"Connor doesn't want children." She waved her hand to minimize her reaction. "Oh, just ignore me, I'm being silly. I guess I'm just a frustrated grandmother at heart. I was thinking that if you had children, maybe you could bring them by. You were our son too, Daniel." 

"Lydia, I..." 

"No, you're right. I'm not being fair. We did love you though. I hope you know that." 

"That's good of you to say." Daniel shifted uncomfortably. 

"Todd was hard on you, I know, but it's only because he was so fond of you. He thought with a little pushing you'd be successful and look at you, he wasn't wrong, was he? So many children in your circumstance would have grown up bitter, would've wound up on the street." 

Daniel couldn't listen anymore. He had spent years trying to figure out why Todd hated him. He refused to listen to Lydia try to explain it as some perverted act of love. 

"Lydia, I'm sorry, I have to go." 

"Of course you do. I'm holding you up, aren't I?" She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "It was so good to see you, Daniel." 

"Take care, Lydia. Please tell Connor I said hello. I hope things work out for him." 

"Keep in touch, all right? Just let us know how you're doing once in awhile, okay?" 

Daniel nodded though he knew he'd never seek her out. He liked her well enough. She had always been good to him. But he knew where his past belonged and that was well in the past. He didn't want the reminders. 

He watched her walk away, dodging between people and then he went his own way. 

* * *

Ben 1991 

Constable Benton Fraser read the report and looked at the photos while Sergeant Briggs fidgeted behind his desk. Ben folded up the file before he set it on the sergeant's desk. 

"What do you think, Constable?" 

"He was a friend of my father's. I didn't know him well." 

"The CSIS has pegged him as an American agent with the Central Intelligence Agency. He spent a great deal of time travelling the country with your father as his guide." 

Ben scratched at his eyebrow. He didn't like Sergeant Briggs' implication. "My father was ordered to escort him. Todd Fleming purported to be a photographer doing a series of magazine displays." 

"He accompanied your father periodically for several years. You didn't think that was odd?" 

"I was quite young when I first met Mr. Fleming. If I may ask, sir, shouldn't these questions be directed towards my father? I'm certain he could answer any inquiry." 

"He's unreachable at the moment. He and Buck Frobisher are in the field." 

Ben nodded. Of course he was in the field, Robert Fraser wouldn't be anyplace else. 

"I could really use some insight into this, Constable. Anything you can tell me about Fleming, even if it seems insignificant." 

"I only met him a few times. My father brought him to visit when he'd come home in the spring. Todd would stay a few days, once I think he stayed for two weeks. I accompanied him on occasion when he would take photos but there was nothing sinister in his actions. I remember that he had a quick temper, that he drank to excess, that he was always polite to my grandparents but was less concerned with manners around me. My father liked him. They would often tell stories about one adventure or another so I know they spent considerable time together." 

"Did he act in any manner you would consider suspicious?" 

"Sir, I was young. I rarely saw him. I don't know if he..." 

"Constable, I'm just asking for an opinion. As you said, these photos are at least a decade old. Our records show he hasn't been outside the States in more than eight years. If Todd Fleming was acting as a spy, then whatever damage he may have caused has been done. All we're trying to determine is his purpose." 

Ben closed his eyes, drawing deep breaths as he focused on Todd Fleming. The image came immediately. Dark hair framing a square face. Dark narrow eyes against a Mediterranean complexion. 

"I'll be the photographer, kid. When I want an opinion, you'll know." 

Ben shook his head of the memory. 

"He had specific ideas of what he wanted to photograph. I often thought that he was missing the more dramatic and attractive landscapes in favor of rocks and shrubs." 

"Well, that's consistent with the photos. Anything else?" 

"I did some relatively minor research into his background. My resources were limited as they were confined to the books and magazines in my grandparents' library. But, I never found Todd listed in any photography books and I thought it was strange at the time." 

"You were suspicious enough to try to find out more about him?" 

"Yes. But it should be known that I did find some magazine layouts later. They were recent ones at the time, so he did publish." 

"Did you find the layout he was shooting of Canada?" 

"Yes, I did. My father directed me to it. It was a relatively obscure publication but it definitely existed." 

"Hmm, is there anything else you can tell me, Constable?" 

Ben thought for a few moments but the memories were old and vague. "I don't believe so, sir." 

"All right then, thank you for your time. I trust that you understand this conversation should be held in confidence." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. You're dismissed." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Ben left Sergeant Briggs' office feeling disconcerted. It was an odd feeling to know that his family had entertained an American spy. It was odder still to think that his father never realized the truth. 

* * *

Ray 1991 

Ray stared sullenly at his wife as she slammed dish after dish after plate after plate on their dining room table. She refused to look in his direction so he took the opportunity to really look at her. Her hair was cut short in some new style that was popular. She wore a tailored gray business suit though the jacket was hanging off the closet door. The shoes she discarded lay by the closet as well, shiny, black, spiked heels and expensive. 

He wondered where his Stella had gone. When did she become the Gold Coast girl that was probably her destiny all along? 

He stood up slowly, careful of his aching head, not wanting to tumble over in the middle of his apology. 

"Stell," he said softly. 

"Sit down, Ray, before you fall down." 

There was no concern in her voice. The anger remained like an undertow pulling at them, dragging them deeper into unknown waters. 

"I'm sorry. I should've called you from the hospital." 

"Yes, you should have. I'm your wife, Ray. How do you think it looks when I bring someone home from the office and my policeman husband is lying on the couch in his underwear with an ice pack on his head?" 

"I didn't mean to embarrass you. I didn't know you were bringing David home." 

"I know," she sighed. "I could've called you too. I just had no idea. And I would've picked you up, you know. You could've called the office and told me you were hurt today." 

"Lieutenant Welsh brought me home. It was no big deal." 

"That's not the point, Ray." 

"I know. I know that. Look, you're busy. You're working twelve hour days as it is and it's just a minor concussion. There wasn't any reason to get you behind schedule when Welsh was already there and willing to drive me." 

"I don't what to say to that. If you really think my job is more important to me than you then..." 

"Hey, I didn't say that. I know you love me, Stella. Just like I love you. I was just trying to be, what do you call it, considerate." 

"You were being stupid is what you were being. Do you have any idea how hard it is to balance a career and still be a good wife? Do you know what they say about me at the office, Ray?" 

"Stella, I..." 

"They say I have steel balls, Ray. They pity you because you have to live with me. Poor Detective Kowalski has to live with that shrew. Isn't that nice? And then I bring David home for a nice home made meal so that maybe somebody from the office can see that we're normal. That I cook for you and look after you and I can still be a tough, dedicated attorney. But, can we do that? No, of course not. I come home to an injured husband who didn't even call to tell me he was hurt." 

"Stella, I'm gonna get into fights sometimes. I'm a cop. I'm sorry but I can't make decisions based on what's going on in your office." 

"You don't understand at all, do you?" 

"I know that you're trying to be a good lawyer and a good wife, I get that, I do. But this is our life, not the assholes in your office. You can't worry about them." 

"I have to worry about them. I'm a woman. They expect me to put in the same hours as the men, to be smarter and faster and they expect me to be Donna Reed too. Sure, it's crap but it's what I have to do if I want to be successful." 

"Oh, come on, who says? It's you putting on all that pressure." 

"You don't believe me." 

"You're just thinking about it wrong." 

"I'm doing it all, Ray and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to. Something is going to have to give or I'll go crazy." 

"That's what I'm saying. Just be you and you'll be all right. Nobody at the SA office cares what you do at home." 

Ray was surprised when tears spilled from her eyes. Stella almost never cried. He wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head against his shoulder. Her voice was a whisper with the next words. 

"Do you know something I don't know? Because I'm the one who's in that office. I hear what they say. I hear all their politics and agendas and I know what's expected of me." 

"It's going to be all right. The job is just new right now. Things will settle down, you'll see." 

"I don't know, Ray, I don't know if I can do all this." 

"You don't want to quit. You know you don't." 

"I never said anything about quitting." 

Ray pulled her closer but he wasn't certain he was breathing. His head was pounding through the pain pills he got at the hospital. He knew she didn't mean she'd choose the job over him but it sure sounded like that's what she was saying. 

* * *

Jack 1991

"At ease, Captain," Colonel Forrester ordered. 

Captain Jack O'Neill assumed the at ease position, maintaining a direct line of sight towards the back wall. 

"Care to tell me what happened this time?" Forrester asked. 

"Lieutenant Christopher put my team in danger. Captain Kawalsky was injured due to Christopher's recklessness." 

"Kawalsky has a sprained ankle and some bruises. He's going to be fine." 

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" 

"Go ahead, Captain." 

"He shouldn't have been injured at all. Christopher got spooked and alerted the enemy to our position forcing all of us to retreat. He pushed past Kawalsky in order to reach our helicopter first, which caused Kawalsky to take an eight foot drop off the side of a mountain. He's lucky to be alive at all." 

"Lieutenant Christopher will be reprimanded and reassigned. I know what to do about him. I don't know what to do about you, Captain. You're a good officer, a talented officer but your single minded determination is illustrating a distinct lack of compassion for the people in your command." 

"Compassion, sir? For a coward like Christopher?" 

"Christopher is twenty years old. This was his first mission post training. No one knows how they'll react in a battle situation and you know that. Berating him in front of the rest of the team was uncalled for, Captain." 

Jack had no response other than to argue so he chose to keep quiet. 

"Look, Jack, the Iraq thing was bad, I understand that. But you have to get yourself together." 

"I'm fine, sir." 

"Well, be that as it may, I'm putting you on leave for two weeks. Go spend some time with your wife and son. Give some thought to what direction you want your career to take." 

Jack barely kept a reign on his fury, not believing this was happening. "Because I chewed out Christopher?" 

"No, because of that and twenty other incidents I could name off the top of my head that make me think you're too close to the edge." 

"I always follow regulations, sir." 

"Sometimes the regulations are just guidelines. The mark of a good leader is knowing when to follow them to the letter and when to leave some maneuvering room. Dismissed, Captain." 

Jack made his way outside to where his sensible four-door Toyota waited and cursed it as he shoved his key into the slot. Sara had insisted they buy this car because they were a family with a child and trucks and jeeps were for single men. She told him that he got to play with all sorts of toys at work so he could give up one vice for her. 

Jack hated the car. He hated a lot of things lately. He still loved Sara, there was no denying that. He loved their son, Charlie. And most of the time he wanted to be home with them. But he also knew there was something missing inside of him, something that kept him from feeling whole, despite them. 

He drove home slowly, hearing Forrester's words echoing in his head. 'The Iraq thing was bad,' yeah, Jack thought, four months in an Iraqi prison after his commander left him behind was a bad thing. Torture and starvation were bad too. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, stopping those thoughts where they started. 

He really didn't know what Forrester wanted from him. It's not like he had assaulted Christopher. He chewed him out, dressed him down, gave him a verbal reprimand that the kid would never forget. Hell, he should have belted the incompetent, stupid.... Jack breathed. That kid could have gotten any of them killed, almost did get Kawalsky killed. 

Pulling into this driveway, he stared at the walk and the front door knowing what he'd find inside. Sara would be cleaning or doing some embroidery thing and Charlie would be playing near by or taking a nap. Or more likely, she'd be chasing him around. At two years old, Charlie was never still, never out of motion unless he was sleeping. 

He turned off the engine and went inside. Sara was sleeping on the couch with Charlie pressed against her with a thumb stuck in his mouth. She blinked lazily at him before she kissed their son on the top of his head and then carefully extricated herself from him. Charlie stirred for just a moment before he curled up next to the pillow that was still warm from Sara's weight. 

Neither Jack nor Sara spoke until they reached the kitchen. 

"What are you doing home so early?" She asked. Her voice was still deep with sleep. 

"I have a couple of weeks off." Jack opened the refrigerator rather than look at her. He studied the contents absently. 

"Did something happen on your last mission?" 

"I already told you that Kawalsky got hurt." 

"I know but that was two days ago and now here you are. Did something else happen?" 

Jack snapped the door shut harder than necessary. "Forrester just thought I could use a couple weeks off. We've been doing a lot of missions lately, don't you think?" 

"Yes, I do. You've hardly been home." 

"Don't start, okay? I'm home now." 

"And you're such a joy to have around," she said sarcastically. 

"So, I keep hearing. Forrester thinks I'm an asshole too if that makes you feel any better." 

"Come on, Jack, you know I don't mean it like that. But, you have been awfully tense lately. Maybe a couple of weeks of downtime is a good idea. We could take a trip, go see your parents. It's been ages since they've seen Charlie." 

"I'm not going all the way to Chicago. They're retired. If they want to see him, they can come here." 

"I just thought it would be nice." 

"You know what would be better? Let's head up to Minnesota, to my grandfather's cabin. We'll do some fishing. Charlie will love it." 

"I don't know, Jack." 

He felt a rush of fury at her. It was irrational, an overreaction, but he couldn't stop the anger. Why couldn't anyone just say yes to him or better yet, "yes, sir." Why did everything have to be a discussion, a struggle? 

"What's the problem?" He demanded. 

"It's the water. I'd be worrying every second. He's so hard to contain as it is." 

"Oh, Christ. I practically grew up by that lake and I didn't drown." 

"I know. It's just, you know how much I worry about him." 

Jack felt his anger deflate. He rubbed his eyes again. 

"I worry about him too. But we don't let him play in traffic, we keep him away from guns and we don't leave him alone in the bathtub. We're doing the right things, Sara, I think we can handle him at the lake. And besides, it'll give me a chance to start teaching him some basic strokes." 

"He's only two." 

"It's old enough. Trust me, Sara, I wouldn't let anything happen to our son." 

She nodded slowly. "All right, Minnesota it is. You make the flight arrangements and I'll start figuring out what we'll need." 

Jack kissed her quickly. "Thanks," he said 

* * *

Daniel 1995

Daniel watched the event horizon of the Stargate dissolve. He shivered despite the desert heat of this foreign planet. A few feet behind him his new wife waited for some sign from him. He wondered if he'd get used to her subservience or if he'd teach her about independence. He wondered if it was fair to use her affection as an excuse for not returning to Earth. 

He was fond of her, more than fond; he loved her. Was it real, romantic love? That was another question and a moot point. 

He had decided to remain on Abydos, using her as a reason and though he knew he'd never bury the Stargate forever as Colonel O'Neill had instructed, they would bury it temporarily and guard it and be cautious. But they couldn't destroy it because if Ra's friends decided to seek revenge, he was determined that these people would use it to escape to Earth. Or another planet. 

Daniel suspected there were other Stargates, other destinations besides the one pathway that led from Earth to Abydos. He just had to continue studying it, studying the symbols and trying to figure out how to access those other planets. 

He knew Jack would rip him apart for even having thoughts like that. It was dangerous. The Goa'uld System Lord, the false god, Ra, had nearly killed them all, had nearly annihilated Abydos and her inhabitants. Burying the Stargate was their best protection against another attack but Daniel couldn't do it, he couldn't bury it and forget about it. He'd let them cover it for now but later he'd convince the Abydos government to take away the stones. 

Daniel deserved the opportunity to study it. It was his research that had brought Catherine Langford to him and put him in the midst of a military operation. He had made the Stargate work. Yes, he thought, he deserved the right to study the Stargate on Abydos. 

Besides, what were the odds that he'd ever see Jack again anyway? He was never going back to Earth and Jack would report they had bombed the planet, so Jack would never return to Abydos. It was an odd feeling that his greatest triumph professionally was also his greatest failure personally. But, he supposed, being physically attracted to an Air Force Colonel was probably a doomed situation in any event. 

And if a piece of him wanted to keep the Stargate just in case he might want to return to Earth, well he didn't have to admit that truth to anyone. 

* * *

Ben (1995) 

"Are you sure you're okay to travel alone?" Ray Vecchio asked. He had been asking that question or some variant of it for several days. 

"I'm fine, Ray." 

"You had amnesia, Fraser." 

"Yes, I did, Ray." 

Ray tossed his jacket into the back of the green Buick Riviera that he treasured above all living things as far as Ben could tell. Ben opened the passenger side door and pushed the seat up so that his half-wolf, Diefenbaker, could jump in. Dief immediately curled up on Ray's jacket. Beside Dief, sat the ghostly image of Ben's father, who stroked an invisible hand through Dief's fur. Ben chose to ignore his father's presence and to not point out that Dief was using Ray's jacket as a cushion. He took his customary place in the passenger seat, dropping his Stetson on the dash. 

"Chicago is a long way from the Northwest Territories, Benny. You got a lot of layovers and plane changes and... really, why are you going there anyway?" 

"It's home," Ben's father said. 

"The Northwest Territories is my home," Ben said. "And besides, it's only for a couple of weeks and then I'll be back in exile here in Chicago." As soon as he said the words, Ben regretted them. "I didn't mean it like that." 

Ben's father made a rude noise. "Oh, very nice son. Just hurt the Yank's feelings why don't you?" 

"It's okay, Benny," Ray said. "I know you don't think of here as home. The other Mounties tossed you out and made you stay here, I know that." 

"I turned in a fellow officer," Ben said, resigned. 

"Yeah, the son-of-a-bitch Mountie that killed your dad." 

"Excellent point. The Yank has promise," Ben's father said. 

Ben appreciated Ray's indignation for his benefit as well as for his father's. But he didn't want to dredge up the unfairness again. He decided to change the subject. 

"I do appreciate the ride to the train station, Ray." 

"No problem. You just make sure you stop at the right place and pick up the right plane. And if you start feeling dizzy or sweaty or anything like the doctor warned you about, then you just call me and I'll come and get you." 

"That's good of you, Ray, really, but I'll be fine." 

Ray sighed. "I know you will, you always are." 

"That's because you're made of good stock, son. Fraser stock." 

"What will you be doing while I'm away?" Ben asked, deliberately not acknowledging his father. He was not prepared to explain to Ray that Ben's father, who had been dead for two years, was making frequent visits. 

"I'll be working. Welsh still can't figure out how we're going to nail Karen, Darlene and Wanda for kidnapping and the diamond heist without Clifford's cooperation." 

"Well, we did recover the diamonds." 

"And Cliffie." 

"And Clifford. If he doesn't wish to prosecute then there's little to pursue." 

"But you fell off their van and got hurt. That's assault." 

"I leaped on to their van of my own free will. It may be difficult to gain a conviction for assault." 

"Hmm," Ray said irritably. "We'll see." 

"You see, that's why he's a detective, Benton, do you see how he's not giving up?" 

Ben just sighed as he watched the passing scenery. Chicago had become a home of sorts he supposed. Ray Vecchio made his exile palatable. 

"In any event, I'm looking forward to some time away," he said, changing the subject again. "Fresh air, hiking, camping, it's been too long." 

"That's just cuz you don't remember the plane crash." 

"I remember it. I didn't have amnesia then, Ray." 

"No, you had dementia." 

"I hardly think you can call a..." 

Ray waved one hand, interrupting him, "It's okay, Benny, I'm just messing with you. Getting a few licks in for the road." 

"Ah. Well, thank you for your consideration." 

Ray laughed and Ben realized again how much he'd miss his friend over the next few weeks. Between Mark Smithbauer, when Ben was thirteen, and Ray, there had been so few friends. Of course, Mark had been an entirely different type of friend, as much infatuation as simple companion. But, still, Ray filled a void in Ben that he hadn't even been aware of until recently. 

"Uh, Benny, one thing...if I can't be there...you know, to pick you up...I'll call, all right?" 

"That will be sufficient. We can walk if you can't make it." 

Diefenbaker whined from the backseat. 

"Yeah, sure you can," Ray said, sarcastically. "Just, uh, I'll call, right?" 

"If I'm not readily available, you can leave a message at the detachment." 

Ben hazarded a glance in his friend's direction. He knew Ray had been distracted and selfishly thought it was due to Ben's recent head injury. Now, he doubted that assessment. But, Ray didn't like to be pushed on personal matters so Ben remained silent with his concern. 

* * *

Ray 1995 

Ray Kowalski leaned back in the wooden chair until it tilted onto two legs and his back was wedged against the wall. His jeans hugged too tightly, his shirt was mesh, his boots had block heels and he was miserable in the whole ensemble. Add to it that he had been pulled off an undercover gig to come in and talk to Feds about another undercover gig and he was cranky too. The fact that Lieutenant Welsh called the meeting was the only reason he'd kept polite. 

"What we're about to confide must be held in the strictest confidence whether or not you take the assignment. Is that understood?" Agent 'Aren't I Slick Looking' Barton said. 

"Yeah, sure, I got it. But maybe I don't want to even hear about this thing. I am working, right now." 

"That case is done, Kowalski," Welsh said. "All you got left is some clean-up." 

"We can walk out of here and you can forget you ever met us," Agent 'Ooh, I'm So Unimpressed' Kline answered. 

"Hear them out, I asked for you specifically," Welsh said. 

"Okay," Ray said with a sigh, just so Welsh would know it was a favor. "Shoot." 

"We have a detective that's going into deep cover and we need someone to take his place at the stationhouse," Barton said. "You'll use his name, you'll answer his phone, you'll handle his caseload." 

"Everyone at the station will know I'm not him unless I got a twin out there." 

"That's right," Kline agreed. "Anybody who knows him will know the truth. Welsh assures me that he can keep a lid on that part of it. All we're really looking for is a placeholder. We want his name on reports, we want him to keep earning a paycheck." 

"What good will that do if somebody looks into it?" 

"Probably none. But a cursory search will show he's still in Chicago and still working. We don't expect anyone to look deeper than that," Barton answered. 

Ray thought it sounded stupid but on the other hand, he'd gotten everything they needed to make an arrest in the "gay mugger" case so he didn't have an actual assignment to use as an excuse. Stella had left almost a year ago so it wasn't like he had to check in with the wife. He really didn't have anything else to do. 

"How long?" He asked. 

"A year, maybe less," Kline said. 

"That's a long time. Would I have to move?" 

"No. You can stay in your own apartment. It'll be better that way, anyway. We don't want you hanging around his neighborhood or places where he goes. We do want you to drive his car. And he has a part-time partner that you'll need to work with." 

"What kind of car?" 

"Vintage Buick Riviera." 

Ray frowned. That was an ugly car. "What about the partner?" 

"Canadian. He works as a liaison officer between the police department and the Canadian Consulate." 

"No kidding," Ray mused. That made no sense but a lot of things didn't. 

"When would I have to start?" Ray asked. 

"The end of the week. Everything will be in place by then." 

"That's fast." 

"We'll provide you with his files and history and Welsh will keep you off the street until his partner gets back in town." 

"Where's the partner?" 

"He's on vacation. He should be back about a week after you start." 

Ray was thinking he should refuse. It sounded easy but it didn't sound too plausible. 

"Ray," Welsh said. "I need someone I can trust. My detective's life depends on it." 

"What's the Canadian like?" Ray asked. 

"Quirky," Welsh answered. 

"Like me?" 

"Not even a little bit." 

Ray burst out with a laugh. "Well, then, I guess it's a match." 

"It's probably going to be a year without you being you, Ray." Welsh said seriously. 

"Well, then, it'll be a better year than I expected." 

* * *

Jack 1995 

Jack touched the photos on the coffee table. He fingered the glass covering the face of his dead son, then moved to the image of his wife. He didn't dare look at himself in the photo. He had been a different man then and he didn't want to make too close a comparison. 

Making his way slowly towards the bedroom, he knew what he'd find. There would be an empty dresser, a half-empty closet and two less pillows on the bed. He knew it would be a shock just as it had been when he came home and found that Sara had started cleaning out Charlie's room. That had nearly killed him. It had only been a few clothes, some mementos given to Charlie's friends but it had been like losing him all over again. 

He didn't think he'd miss Sara's things the way that he missed his son's. After all, Sara wasn't dead. She didn't have a bullet in her brain. She was healthy, if not happy, she was safe, though she wasn't there. Charlie had the bullet but if he wanted to get philosophical, Charlie was safe too, even though he wasn't there anymore either. 

He really thought that the mission to Abydos changed him enough that maybe he could salvage his marriage to Sara. But she had taken away the option. He had waited too long to want to try and now she didn't have the desire anymore. 

Sara had been succinct on the phone. She was done waiting for him to come back to life. She was done waiting for her own life. She was done playing the blame game and done wasting her time fighting. In a word, Sara was done. 

Jack couldn't fault her. Since Charlie's death, he'd been on the verge of insanity. He had been courting suicide on so many occasions that it almost seemed wrong when he wasn't thinking about it. He missed his son and he missed the promise of their life as a family. He blamed himself every second of every day until there wasn't anything left except guilt. When the guilt overwhelmed him he lashed out at Sara. It was amazing that she had stayed as long as she had. 

He couldn't deny the jolt of emotion when he finally looked in the closet. It wasn't as bad as coming home to Charlie's violated bedroom but it had an impact. He felt the emptiness of her leaving sweep over him and yet, the despair didn't come with it. There was no anger, no righteous indignation, no nausea. He felt her absence but it didn't drive him from his feet the way it had with Charlie. 

"All right," he said. "I can survive this. I destroyed a god and saved a world. I can learn to live alone again." 

* * *

Daniel 1998 

Daniel crawled into his bed, pulled the blankets to his chin and stared at the ceiling. 

"They are dead." He spoke the words out loud because he had to; he had to reface the facts. "I watched them die and there was no way I could've saved them." 

Days had clicked by since they left the Gamekeeper's planet but still the newness of his parents' death stayed with him. He had been so young when he saw them crushed, the event just a blip in time and he had missed a lot of details. He wished he didn't have the details now. 

He took a breath. He had failed them and he had failed Sha're. Two years ago, Jack O'Neill had come back through the Stargate. He had brought mayhem and violence with him and Daniel's wife had been taken as a host. Not that it was Jack's fault. It wasn't, of course. The blame lay with the Goa'uld and their endless need to enslave and conquer. And it lay with him for removing the cover that shielded the gate and protected Abydos from intruders. 

After Sha're was taken, he joined SG-1 and vowed that he would find her. Two long years and he continued to pray for a miracle, hoping every time he went through the gate that she'd be there. 

He rolled on to his side, wrapping his arms around the second pillow. 

He didn't know why he was thinking of Sha're. After all, it was his parents' death that he was truly mourning. And yet, they'd been taken and she'd been taken and the end result remained the same. Daniel was left alone, filled with regrets and guilt. 

"They're dead," he said again and closed his eyes. 

The ache inside him grew with every picture that flitted through his mind. He had missed them for such a long time but the dull pain he'd grown used to, turned sharp again when he was forced to relive their deaths. Now the pain of their loss was as strong as the first time. 

"You're not eight," he reminded himself. 

"But they were still your parents," he added. 

A knocking at the front door forced him away from the grief. He pushed the blankets off automatically and like a machine, he went to the door. He didn't check the peephole because, at that moment, he didn't care. 

He opened the door to find Jack O'Neill standing there, hands pushed into his pockets and looking miserable. 

"Jack, what are you..." Daniel gave up. He didn't really need to ask; he could guess why Jack was there. 

"You've been moping for days. What gives?" Jack walked past him into the apartment. 

"Come on in," Daniel responded, sarcastically. "And thanks for the news flash but I have not been moping, I've just got a lot on my mind." 

"Like what?" 

"Jack..." 

"Look, Daniel, you think you're the only one having nightmares after our little trip down memory lane? I do understand." 

"I know you do. Colonel Michaels was your C.O. and your friend, which is why I don't want to parade around my..." 

"John Michaels was a good man. Watching him die again was terrible, mind bendingly awful. But, Daniel, he wasn't my father and I wasn't a child. We were on a mission, Colonel Michaels, Kawalsky, me, all of us. The worst happened but sometimes the worst does happen, that's the risk." 

"I thought you said it was the same." 

"No, I said I was having nightmares too. What happened to us is not equal." 

Daniel felt himself automatically retreating. Even if he wanted to talk about it, he wasn't certain that he could. "I really don't want to get into this." 

"Well, you need to. I need you to." 

Daniel exhaled. He slumped down on to the couch, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

"You're depressed, Daniel." 

"Really?" Daniel didn't bother to open his eyes or to hide his sarcasm. 

"Did you know that the original meaning of sarcasm is to tear flesh?" 

This time he did open his eyes. "Why, yes, Jack, I did know that. Being a linguist and all, the origin of words has come up before." Jack didn't respond. He just cocked his head and waited. Daniel looked away, the guilt of his bad behavior creeping over him. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. It was so long ago, I guess I thought I'd put it behind me." 

Jack took the chair across from him. "They were your parents." 

"I heard the rumble, Jack, I just didn't save them." 

"You were eight, it doesn't matter if you yelled out or not, it doesn't matter if you understood what you were seeing, you couldn't have stopped it from happening. Daniel, there were adults all around you and not one of them was able to save them." 

Daniel blinked away the first bit of moisture in his eyes. "I know," he whispered. "I just wish things had been different." 

Jack squeezed his shoulder. Daniel deliberately held in a shiver. 

"That's just life, Daniel. Things don't always work out." 

"Like with Sha're." 

"That's not over yet." 

Jack watched him while Daniel took in the graying hair, the hard lines of his body, the brown eyes that saw more in him than he dared believe existed and for just a moment the ache lessened. Whatever losses he experienced, he could be grateful that his friend knew him well enough to check in and cared enough to try and help. 

"I'm sorry I was such an ass," Daniel said. "I appreciate you coming over here." 

"I understand..." 

Jack leaned towards him as he started to speak and Daniel was acutely aware of his heat. He had never really lost his infatuation with Jack but he had set it aside. After all, Daniel was married even if his wife had been stolen away and made into a monster. 

When Daniel lived on Abydos, he realized early that he was not in love with Sha're. He did love her, of course, and they'd been happy together. They found comfort and companionship in their relationship, support and friendship but not love. He'd discovered real passion at Sha're's side and his sorrow at losing her, his guilt at allowing her to be lost, remained as intensely painful as if he had a knife plunged into his belly. But it was the same pain he'd have at losing Sam or Teal'c. It wasn't deep, romantic love, it was a deep, consuming friendship. A friendship fueled by the most base desire for physical touch. 

Jack leaned closer and Daniel thought hysterically that he should meet him halfway, press his mouth to Jack's and end the frustration of wanting. But, before he could, before Jack could even finish his sentence, all was lost to the ring of the phone. Daniel dropped his head, even as he stood to answer it. 

"Is this Doctor Daniel Jackson?" A male voice asked. 

"Yes, it is. Who's this?" 

"It's Todd Fleming, Daniel. You remember me, don't you?" 

Daniel unconsciously clenched the phone tighter. "Yes, of course, I remember." 

"You've done pretty well for yourself. Lydia said she saw you a few years ago." 

"Uh, yeah. At the airport, I think, in Chicago." 

"Yeah, look, Daniel, I need to see you. It's important." 

Whatever Jack's good will had accomplished vanished as Daniel felt his stomach clench. "You need to see me? About what?" 

"It's important. Can you come to my studio tomorrow?" 

"What do you want?" Daniel felt more than saw Jack come to attention at his tone of voice. Jack moved closer as if a threat existed. 

"Look, it won't take long. It's about Connor." 

"What about him?" 

"I'm asking for a favor here. Do you think you can drop out of your life for an hour to meet me? We were your family for God's sakes." 

Daniel bristled at the idea that the Flemings were his family. They were his caretakers but he never felt like one of them. And the last two years before leaving for California had been a nightmare. Still, he couldn't deny that he had lived with them. He had been part of their lives and they had been part of his. They had provided for him, kept him under their roof when so many others had sent him away. 

"Okay," he relented. "My job is unpredictable but give me the address and a time and I'll do my best to be there." 

The rest of the conversation concerned specifics of the meeting. There was no emotional connection between them. It felt like a business transaction. When Daniel hung up, Jack picked up the pad where he had written the information. 

"What's this?" 

"A voice from the past." 

Jack frowned at him, obviously not willing to accept that answer. 

"It was a man named Todd Fleming. He and his wife, Lydia were one of my foster families. My last one, actually. I lived with them for about four years before I went to college." 

"What does he want?" 

"I don't really know. I guess I'll find out tomorrow." 

* * *

Ben 1998

"I love you," Ben said. 

"You shouldn't...be trying...to kill me...then...." Ray's voice swept over him, breathless and deep and loved. Ben laughed as Ray wrapped his arms around him, holding him warm against his body while Ben nudged his way in to rest in the space of neck and shoulder. 

They breathed together. Ben felt every exhalation, unreasonably joyful at the life it represented. The gradually slowing heartbeat, the slight trembling and the rumble of a cough were all indications of a life more precious to him than his own. 

"We're good," Ray said. "You and me. Good at everything." 

"We are today," Ben agreed. 

"It doesn't seem real except when we're like this. Out in the real world, it seems fake, like a dream." 

Ben didn't feel philosophical. He felt content and tired and sated. He wanted to fall asleep because when he woke he'd still be in the arms of his lover. 

"Thankfully, the dream is recurring." 

Ray nudged him gently with his whole body. "I'm serious." 

Ben forced himself away from the doze that threatened. "We can't bring our relationship to the real world, Ray. It'd be dangerous for all of us." 

"You, me and Vecchio." 

"We have a responsibility to protect him." 

"I know that. I know we can't go public until he comes back. If he ever bothers to come back which I'm beginning to seriously doubt." 

Ben turned to his side and pulled himself up so he could sit with his back to the headboard. He pulled the blankets past his hips, then reached beneath them until he found Ray's arm. With a little coaxing, Ray pushed into his touch until his arm was lying over Ben's leg and his hand rested on Ben's knee. 

"What's this about?" Ben asked as he massaged Ray's shoulder and upper arm. 

"I'm tired of being him, Fraser. It's time to go back to being me." 

"I thought that you could if you wanted to. Didn't the FBI clear Ray Vecchio's cover a few months ago?" 

"Yeah, but Welsh and I decided it was a bad idea. The Feds don't know what they're doing half the time so we figured we better not take the chance." 

"Yes, I remember, but, if you're unhappy, maybe it's time for a new discussion." 

"It's Vecchio's life we're playing with. We can't just chuck it because I'm getting antsy." 

Ben frowned, irritated by Ray's comment. "Of course not. Ray Vecchio is my friend, Ray, I wouldn't risk his life. I'm just suggesting that if those protecting him believe it's safe and you're not happy in your current assignment, then, perhaps, we should take another look at the situation." 

Ray just groaned in frustration. The phone rang, effectively interrupting them. Ray picked it up. 

"Yeah, he's here, Inspector, hang on." Ray mouthed the word "Thatcher" at him. 

Ben scratched his eyebrow and cleared his throat as he took the receiver. 

"Yes, Inspector, what can I do for you?" 

"I know it's your day off, Fraser, but I need you here. Turnbull is home with the flu and I have to go to the luncheon with the mayor. I'll be leaving in about an hour so I need you here at least fifteen minutes before that so I can brief you on the day's itinerary." 

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be there shortly." Ben handed the phone back to Ray. 

After the connection had been severed, Ray cursed. 

"On your day off?" 

"Constable Turnbull is sick and Inspector Thatcher has a meeting with the mayor so there's no one else." 

"Let her find somebody. Or hell, close the place down for a couple of hours while she's out. It's not like you lose Canadians in Chicago on a regular basis, Fraser." 

"It's my duty, Ray, I can't refuse." 

Ben climbed out of their bed and headed for the bathroom. He tried not to show his disappointment at their interrupted day. There was no point in Ray feeling angry for both of them. He turned on the shower then brushed his teeth while he waited for the water to warm. By the time he stepped under the spray, Ray came in wearing his boxers and scratching his head. 

"How long's Turnbull been sick?" 

"His temperature was a 101 yesterday but he forged through the day." 

"Jeez, I was out in the lobby with him for almost an hour while you were in that stupid meeting with Thatcher and I didn't even notice." 

"He's a Mountie, Ray. And being Turnbull, unusual behavior may not have been readily apparent." 

"I guess so." Ray closed the toilet lid and sat down. "You let him work with a temperature like that?" 

"I'm not his mother. And I did try to send him home but Inspector Thatcher was unaware of his condition and he was unwilling to inform her." 

"You should've known he'd call in today." 

"I suppose I should have." Ben finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. He turned off the shower. 

Ray tugged a towel off the rack and handed it to him as he stepped out. Ben looked at him, regretfully. He had been looking forward to their day together. The morning's activities had promised to stretch well into the afternoon. 

"I am sorry. You know I'd rather spend the day with you than spend it in the shoebox we refer to as my office." 

Ray laughed. "Was that a complaint? From you?" 

Ben wrapped the towel around his waist. "I think she chose the smallest room possible to put me when the Consulate changed locations. To think I keep a cot in there with the desk and the filing cabinets is truly an amazing use of space." 

Ray stood up to kiss him lightly, almost chastely on the lips. "I love you. Don't leave until I get out of the shower, okay?" 

Ben kissed him back with a nod of agreement. 

* * *

Daniel 

The first thing Daniel noticed upon waking was cold. He shivered and tried to pull his body in to gain some warmth. That led to his second discovery. His hands were secured behind his back with something metal, probably handcuffs and his ankles were pulled back too, apparently attached to his wrists. Okay, he thought, this isn't good. 

He felt nauseous with a headache blossoming behind his eyes but given the contortionist position he was in, that made sense. The human body wasn't built to stay bent for long periods of time. Admittedly, he didn't know how long he'd been in this position but given the aching pull on his muscles, the headache and the need to urinate, he guessed it had been a while. 

Daniel stopped concentrating on the discomfort and started trying to remember what happened. The night before, probably the night before, Todd Fleming had phoned and asked to meet him. Like an idiot and against his own better judgment as well as Jack's, he'd agreed. Jack had left shortly after, grumbling that Daniel never listened to him. Daniel had gone to bed, irritated by his friend's overreaction to the situation. After all, he'd argued, he was meeting his former foster parent, not Attila the Hun or Apophis the Goa'uld. 

Jack hadn't been concerned about Daniel's physical welfare. "One emotional trauma a week, Daniel, that's the limit," Jack had said. Daniel tried to assure him that there was no trauma in meeting Todd but Jack didn't believe him. 

The next day, Daniel had followed the directions to Todd's studio. Lydia had told him that Todd was living in Colorado so he didn't think it was odd. He remembered arriving at the address and walking up the narrow outside steps to the suite number he'd been given. He'd been nervous and annoyed with himself for it. The guy may have bullied him when he was a kid but that was a long time ago. 

The walk up the steps is where his memory grew hazy. He thought he remembered knocking on the door. And Todd did answer. He could clearly see his foster parent in his mind. Todd was older and grayer but not frail in any sense. He had clearly taken to exercising, probably weight lifting. 

Daniel could see Todd waving him inside the door and then...nothing. He couldn't remember if they spoke, couldn't remember if they fought. He had no idea if Todd was a victim in something aimed at Daniel or if Todd was the enemy. Or perhaps, Daniel had been caught up in something aimed at Todd. 

He didn't know anything except that he was worried. He had faced all sorts of evil during his years with SG-1. He wasn't helpless but the unknown loomed around him. And, as he well knew, a bullet from a gun on earth killed just as easily as a Zat. 

Remembering his training, Daniel took stock of his surroundings. The room was maybe ten by ten, maybe twelve by twelve. The walls appeared to be painted metal. He thought they might be dark green but it was hard to tell in the dim light. The floor he was lying on was rough cement. He scooted his body around to see another section of room. He found a piece of furniture that drove a feeling of dread straight to his stomach. It should have been an innocuous thing except that thick bolts protruded from the floor and through the legs. And even that didn't make it evil. It was the straps on the arms and on the legs of the chair that made Daniel catch his breath. 

The ominous sound of metal scraping metal, the loud screech of a rusted sliding door and the pounding beat of footsteps advertised the arrival of his captors. Daniel swallowed back the sudden bile that pushed into his throat. 

"You have something that belongs to me," Todd said as he crouched near Daniel's head. 

"What's this about?" Daniel demanded. 

"It was a long time ago, Daniel. I'm sure you don't remember but that's why I had to bring you here. I'm going to try to jog your memory so you can tell me where it is." 

Daniel didn't like the look in Todd's face. He looked too much like he was hoping that Daniel didn't remember. 

"You stole something, Daniel, something important. It was probably just a childish prank but now I need it back." 

Daniel grimaced as he tried to ease the cramps in his arms and legs. The handcuffs bit into his wrists. "I never stole anything from you. And what makes you think I'd have it anyway? Whatever it is. I don't have stuff from back then." 

"It's not something you'd throw away. It's something you'd hide. It's something you'd save to use against me later. But you didn't hide it at my house because I looked so you must have taken it with you." 

Daniel tried to keep his voice sounding reasonable. "Okay, look, I never took anything from you or from your house. Not even the things that you and Lydia gave me. I took clothes because I had to but that was it. I even used a suitcase that Nick sent me so you can just give up on whatever you think I've got." 

Movement sounded from across the room. Todd's companions, two men wearing rubber Halloween masks were unbuckling the straps on the chair. 

"Anytime you're ready," the gorilla said. 

It seemed like slow motion as Todd nodded. Stan Laurel approached with something small clasped in his hand. Daniel realized it was a key just before Todd slipped the glasses off Daniel's face. 

"I always hated these," Todd said before he heaved them against the wall. They hit with the expected cracking of glass. 

"That wasn't necessary," Daniel said, annoyed and angry and trying hard to suppress his fear. 

Laurel pressed the key into a lock at Daniel's wrists and his legs jerked free. He groaned with the painful motion and the re-start of blood flow into his limbs. Laurel released the chain from his ankles before lifting him to his feet. Daniel wished that the other man wasn't having such an easy time of it. Given that he was 180 pounds of dead weight, the fact that this man could support him so easily was daunting. 

Daniel tried to throw his weight backward but his legs refused to take instruction so the effort was wasted. It didn't take long for them to get him into the chair, release his arms and then strap him in. All the motion made him nauseous and the weakness in his limbs made him nervous. 

"You're still hung over from the last injection, Daniel so this next one should hit pretty hard. That's good for you because the sooner you get drugged up, the sooner that memory of yours will kick in and you'll tell me what I need to know." 

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was just a kid the last time I saw you." 

The gorilla produced a syringe and a vial from the pocket of the lab coat he wore. He measured out some clear liquid while Laurel wrapped a rubber cord around Daniel's bicep. 

"Todd, I don't know what you want," Daniel said, hating the panic in his voice. 

"I think you do," Todd said. 

Daniel yelled out in helpless anger as the needle plunged into his vein. 

* * *

Ben

Ben came home from the Consulate feeling generally hot and tired. The days were warming quickly towards summer and even the brown uniform was uncomfortable. As he opened Ray's apartment door with his key, he felt a profound sense of belonging. 

Diefenbaker scratched impatiently reminding Ben that he was lingering in the hall. 

The wolf walked in first with a whine of annoyance before jumping on to Ray's couch, turning three times and lying down. He stared at Ben defiantly, practically daring him to object. Ben refused to give him the satisfaction. 

He called out to Ray instead but received no answer. Instead he found a note on the dining room table. 

'Ben, I'm meeting a guy for lunch. He gave me photography lessons about a hundred years ago. Should be home before you but just in case, here's the note. Leftovers in the fridge. Love, Ray.' 

Ben set the paper down with a sigh of disappointment. He had hoped that he and Ray could pick up where they left off that morning. Chastising himself for being selfish, he went into the kitchen to find the leftovers and to take his mind off his missing lover. 

After setting the remaining beef stew in the microwave, he went into the bedroom, stripped out of his red serge and changed into jeans and his blue Henley. Ray liked the color of the blue and the soft texture of the material. 

* * *

Daniel 

Waking the second time was far worse than his first experience. Stomach cramps replaced the nausea and the cold had taken root in his bones. At least he was no longer chained up or strapped in the chair, he thought, trying to put a positive spin on the situation. 

He curled up tighter, once more trying to conserve heat, maybe even generate some. The process was painful and before he succeeded he vomited. He spit out as much of the vile substance as he could but the aftertaste left him feeling sicker. 

He crawled away from the mess, hoping to find a new place to lie but his bladder was full and he couldn't remember if he'd had the opportunity to relieve himself earlier. 

With a determination born of need, he crawled to the nearest wall and slowly managed to find his feet. His vision faded but he battled the unconsciousness back. He had to stay awake to avoid soiling himself. Using the cold metal wall as a guide and support, he made his way back to the scene of his illness and emptied his bladder. He left the immediate area as quickly as he could which wasn't as quickly as he wanted. 

As he reached the opposite wall, he started to sink back to the floor when the sound of a moan reached his ears. At first he thought maybe the sound came from him but when it happened again, he realized that it hadn't. Daniel had been so intent on his own needs that he hadn't bothered to look around for company. Not that he had any reason to expect another person but he should have, at least, looked to see if his captors remained. 

Without his glasses, Daniel's vision was limited but near the chair he thought he could make out movement. Adrenaline kicked in making it easier to traverse the six or seven feet across open space. When he arrived he found another man lying on his side near the chair. 

His hair was light, maybe blond though it was difficult to judge in the dark. He was thin but muscular definition was apparent through his clothes. Dressed in only blue jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt, he was shivering. 

"It's all right," Daniel said softly. 

Daniel was surprised when the other man grabbed his arm in a bruising grip. 

"Hey, hey, take it easy," Daniel said. "We're the only ones here right now." 

"And who the fuck are you that that should make me feel better?" The man released him suddenly with a groan before rolling on to his back and laying his arm over his stomach. 

"I think I'm starting to feel better if that helps," Daniel said. "I've only been awake a few minutes." 

The man turned his head to look at him. "They jab you too?" 

"Yeah, but I don't know how long ago." 

The man rolled to his knees slowly but he kept one arm wrapped around his middle. "I'm Ray Kowalski," he said. 

"Daniel Jackson. Do you know what's going on?" 

"I know Todd Fleming but beyond that...he wants something, says I have it which I don't." 

"He told me the same thing. It's the negative on some photo. He thinks I stole it when I moved out." 

"A negative of what?" 

"I have no idea." 

"Jeez, I took photography lessons when I was like fourteen or fifteen, something like that. I don't have anything from back then." 

"I lived with his family for a while when I was a kid but I don't have anything either." 

"How old?" 

"I moved in when I was twelve then I left for college four years later." 

Daniel watched Ray's surprise as he did the math. 

"You went to college at sixteen?" 

Daniel smiled a little, embarrassed. "I'm bright." 

"I guess so." Ray pushed himself up and stretched, reaching up with a groan. "You're right, a little time and you do feel better." 

"When you're up to it, I think we should try to get out of here. Wherever here is," Daniel said, getting to his feet. 

"Smells like the lake they call Michigan and this looks like a warehouse. A really empty warehouse," Ray said, glancing around. "Have you tried the door?" Daniel glanced in that direction then looked back at Ray, embarrassed again. "Okay, that's the place to start," Ray said. 

They didn't get the opportunity as the squeal of the door greeted them. 

* * *

Ben 

"Yes, Mrs. Kowalski, thank you for looking up the name," Ben said, trying to keep his voice steady so he wouldn't frighten her. 

"I knew I'd find it around here someplace. I kept the flier that he was using back then, just in case Ray took to it. You know, so we'd have a nice memento from when he first started. Damien thinks I'm crazy to keep all this stuff but I just tell him, he's our son, it's our job to keep things." 

"I quite understand, ma'am. Did you find the man's name?" 

"Let's see, it's right here at the bottom. It's a little faded, Constable, just a moment...oh, yes, I remember now. His name was Fleming, Todd Fleming. The studio was called Fleming Vistas." 

"Excuse me?" Ben asked, certain he'd heard incorrectly. 

"Todd Fleming of Fleming Vistas. A very nice man, had a nice family too." 

Ben cleared his throat. It can't be the same man, he thought. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Kowalski." 

"You'll have Ray call, won't you? We live so close now and we still hardly see him." 

"I'll have him call. Thank you, ma'am." 

Ben hung up. As soon as the receiver landed, he found himself surrounded by Lieutenant Welsh, Francesca Vecchio and the ghost of Bob Fraser. 

"You get a name, Constable?" Welsh asked. 

"Todd Fleming," Ben answered. 

"Todd Fleming," Bob echoed. 

"His studio was called Fleming Vistas." 

"I'm running it," Francesca said. She went back to her desk and started typing. "One 'm' or two, Frase?" 

"One, I think." 

"Yes, that's right, son," Bob said. 

"Constable, does this name mean something to you?" Welsh asked. Ben was shaken from his memories. He looked directly at his father for a moment before turning his attention back to Lieutenant Welsh. 

"Yes, sir it does, but I can't be certain it's the same person." 

"Who do you think it might be?" 

"It's running now," Francesca yelled. 

"My father periodically escorted a man named Todd Fleming around the Northwest Territories when I was a boy. Fleming was a photographer." 

"That's a pretty big coincidence, Constable," Welsh said. 

"I got the file. It's printing," Francesca called out, pointing excitedly at her printer. 

Ben stood over the printer with Welsh on his right and Bob on his left. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since Ben left Ray at the apartment to go to work. The only clue they had to his disappearance was the note he had left. If Ray were a civilian, they wouldn't even be looking yet. 

As the third page printed, Ben barely held in a gasp. His father clasped a hand to his mouth. The man in the photo was clearly the same Todd Fleming that Ben had known as a child. And somehow, through fate or coincidence, Ray had known the same man. 

"Sir," Ben turned to Welsh. "This man worked for the CIA. My government confirmed it several years ago. We believe that he was acting nefariously while in the company of my father." 

"Miserable bastard," Bob said. 

"He taught Kowalski photography," Welsh pointed out. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes, sir. I was approached a long time ago on this issue. My father was as well. There were no charges brought, nothing added to my father's record since he had been ordered to escort this man, but I remember that he was distressed about the implications." 

"Distressed, hell, I was furious. Still am." 

"We discussed confronting Fleming but were ordered specifically to let the matter drop. We were told that he was an extremely low-level operative and that whatever he was photographing never amounted to any damage to our government. By the time his identity was confirmed, it had been ten years since he was even in Canada." 

"Okay, okay." Welsh stood back with his arms folded. "You've got a connection, Kowalski's got a connection and that's a lot of coincidence. But both of you lost track of this guy how many years ago?" 

"My last contact with him was in 1980. I was eighteen. Ray's mother said he started taking lessons when he was sixteen but she didn't say how long they lasted." 

"That's a couple years leeway but we're still in the same timeframe." Welsh glanced around and found they were being observed by a number of people. "Given the delicate nature of this...issue, why don't you join me in my office?" 

Ben understood that Welsh was referring to Ray's undercover status as Ray Vecchio so he nodded. 

He flipped through the fax pages as he followed the lieutenant. He didn't stop reading even as he sat down in the chair opposite of the desk. When he did look up, he was relieved to find that his father had disappeared again. It would be easier to concentrate without his presence. 

"Constable, I don't like coincidence but I don't like forcing puzzle pieces either. We don't even have enough to prove that Fleming's involved with Ray's disappearance." 

"The implication is certainly there, sir. Ray disappeared while going to meet him." 

"What does the file say?" Welsh asked. 

"It says he has a wife and son. Lydia and Connor. He doesn't have much of a record but he was arrested for disorderly conduct in 1978. He's also listed with social services as a foster parent though that doesn't appear to be current." 

"Does he have a service record?" 

"He served in the US Air Force from age 18 to 22. He resigned in 1974. He didn't start travelling with my father until 1978." 

"Does it mention any government work other than the Air Force?" 

Ben flipped through the pages, gleaning bits of information from each page. "No. There's a history of his vehicle registrations and his marriage certificate, his registration with social services and here's the application for his business license and trade name." 

"Passport?" 

"Yes. It lists his visits to Canada but he doesn't appear to have gone anyplace else." 

"But your government says he was CIA?" 

"That's what I was told." 

"If he was recruited, it most likely would've been from the service." 

"He graduated from Chicago University with a degree in Social Sciences in 1977." 

"Agents are usually educated, Constable." 

"Mrs. Kowalski said that Ray studied with him when he was 16. That would have been in '78. We knew him at the same time." 

"But you didn't know each other. There's just no connection between you and Ray from when you were children." 

"Except for Todd Fleming." 

"Yeah, except for that. It still feels like a stretch to connect the two of you through him." 

"Yes, yes it does." 

Welsh's phone rang. He picked it up with a glare through his window in the general direction of Francesca. 

"I don't want to be disturbed, Miss Vecchio." There was a pause for listening then Welsh told her to put the call through. Welsh pressed the speaker on his phone. 

"This is Lieutenant Welsh, can I help you?" 

"This is Colonel Jack O'Neill with the United States Air Force. You want to take me off speaker, Lieutenant?" 

"Actually, I don't. If this concerns Todd Fleming, then it concerns Constable Fraser who is the only other person in this office." 

"Constable who?" 

"Just a moment, Colonel," another voice came over the speaker. "This is General George Hammond, we are conducting an investigation into Todd Fleming and your recent inquiry into his file was routed to us. This is a government matter of extreme urgency, Lieutenant Welsh, so we'd appreciate an explanation of your interest." 

"I have a detective missing and Todd Fleming is his last known contact. We want to know if he's seen my man and if he has any information regarding his disappearance." 

"In Chicago?" O'Neill's voice came over the line. "Fleming was here two days ago." 

"And where is here, Colonel?" Fraser asked, standing over Welsh's desk. 

"Colorado." 

"We're in Chicago, Illinois, Colonel. My partner went to meet Mr. Fleming yesterday. He hasn't been heard from since." 

O'Neill's voice became muffled as if he had stepped away. "Permission to go to Chicago, sir." 

"Go ahead, Colonel." Ben felt like he was eavesdropping. 

"I'll be there in four hours," O'Neill said into the phone. 

"Are you still there, Lieutenant Welsh?" Hammond asked. 

"Yes, General, we're both still here." 

"Colonel O'Neill will brief you upon his arrival. We also have a missing man who appears to be connected to Todd Fleming." 

* * *

Daniel 

Daniel didn't know whether he should be glad of their new surroundings or more concerned. He and Ray Kowalski had been moved, blindfolded and bound, out of the metal room. They'd been dumped in a trunk that wasn't big enough for two grown men and Daniel became a lot more familiar with Ray than he actually wanted to be. From Ray's complaints, the feeling was mutual. 

The drive had been mercifully short. Dragged none too gently out of the trunk they'd been led along a cement walk, judging by the feel and the sound as they walked, and then up a few steps. When their blindfolds and handcuffs had been removed, they found themselves in a new room that contained a bed and a second room, blessedly containing a bathroom. There was no shower or sink but at least they now had a toilet. And it was much warmer. 

The gorilla explained that the warehouse was getting rank and it would've just gotten worse. They needed a place with a few more amenities. That was all the explanation provided and once they'd been delivered they were left alone. 

At first Daniel had been glad for the changes. Unfortunately, Ray pointed out that the more comfortable digs probably indicated a long stay. Daniel was irritated with himself for not thinking of that. Jack would have thought of it right away. 

The vacation from Todd ended abruptly when he showed up, flanked by the Halloween brigade a few minutes after arriving. There was no preamble or warning. The gorilla hit Daniel in the stomach with a solid punch that brought him to the floor. His eyes filled at the sudden pain and he thought he was going to be sick. He could hear Ray yelling but by the time he'd managed the pain and lifted his head, Ray and the rest of them were gone. 

They returned Ray some time later. He was pale and shivering and though he didn't appear to be injured, they'd obviously injected him again. Daniel was again glad for the bed as he tucked the other man in to let him sleep off the effects. He didn't have a watch or a clock but it felt like an hour or so had passed before Ray started waking. Luckily for both of them, Ray made it to the bathroom before vomiting what little was left in his stomach. When he came back out, he was sweating and whiter than before. Bright red fever blotches stained his cheeks. 

Daniel reached out to help him, startled by the heat radiating through Ray's skin. "You're hot," he said. 

Daniel led Ray to the bed, sitting him down while he studied his half-closed eyes and complexion and felt his cheeks and forehead for fever. 

"I don't feel too good. It's different than the last time," Ray said. 

"Did they give you something else?" 

"I don't know. Looked like the same stuff in the shot. It felt the same going in." 

"I don't like this." Daniel was worried. If Ray was having an allergic reaction or something, this situation would get much worse. 

"Did something happen in the last couple days that you have liked?" Ray gave him a small smile but Daniel just continued looking at him, not really knowing what he was looking for but feeling like he should do something. 

Ray patted him on the shoulder before he backed his way to the top of the bed and stretched out. He covered his face with one arm while he placed the other hand over his stomach. 

"Do you still feel nauseous?" Daniel asked. 

"Kind of. It doesn't matter though, there's nothing left inside to come out." 

"Yeah. We have to get some water and food in here. They provided water at first but I haven't had anything since you showed up." 

"I'm lucky that way. So, uh, have you figured out the angle on all this yet?" 

"No. Todd was a little crazy when I was a kid but this just doesn't make any sense. What about you?" 

"I got along with him all right. I kind of liked learning how to take pictures and develop them, but one day I showed up for my lesson and he totally wigged out on me. Started calling me names, making like I was fresh off the short bus and then he kicked me out." 

"Short bus?" Daniel asked. 

"You know, Special Ed kids ride the short bus." 

"Oh." Daniel couldn't help but smile at Ray's descriptive speech. 

"I did punch him the day he dropped me, but he hasn't brought it up. I don't know if he remembers. What about you? What was he like at home?" 

Daniel folded his arms, pacing the small room as he spoke. 

"At first he was okay. He let his wife handle the kids, their son and I, so we didn't interact that much. But then about two years into living there, he became unstable. He started drinking, having violent moments, disappearing for days. He always traveled but he started going away with no explanation." 

Ray took his arm off his eyes and rolled on to his side. "How violent did he get?" 

"Enough to get my attention." 

"Did he hit you?" 

"Sometimes." Daniel shook his head at the images flashing through his mind. "It wasn't that bad. You know the idea of child abuse is modern. Todd's behavior wouldn't have been considered unusual back when your grandfather was raising children or even in your father's generation." 

Ray rolled over again so he was lying on his back. "You can spin it if you want, but wrong is wrong, okay?" 

"I guess so." Daniel agreed reluctantly. He didn't want to categorize himself as an abused child. 

"Okay, well, what we got is a nutjob so let's try to figure out when he went off the tracks, huh?" 

They spent the next few minutes comparing ages and times to decide when they had known Todd and what they had in common. Once they exhausted that avenue they started exchanging more recent personal information. 

"So, I'm a cop and you're an archeologist slash linguist slash anthropologist slash government expert, kind of military guy." 

"Well, I don't think of myself as military," Daniel said. 

"Got a lot of letters after your name?" Ray asked. 

"A few." 

"Do any of those titles and letters lead back to Todd?" 

"If they do, I'm at a loss as to how." 

"I hear ya. I'm in an undercover thing right now but I just can't come up with a connection between a twenty year old negative and what's going on now." 

Ray had changed positions several times, obviously aching. He stretched his arms above his head with a groan and returned to lying down. 

"Why don't you get some sleep," Daniel suggested. "I'm worried about your temperature." 

"Most people worry about my temper, heh." Ray closed his eyes, grinning at his joke. "I don't think I can sleep yet." 

"Besides the fever, are you having any other symptoms?" 

"Body aches, skin hurts, got a headache. My stomach's settled down. I wouldn't mind some aspirin though." 

Trying to take Ray's mind off his illness, Daniel asked, "So, what do you do when you're not working?" 

"I box some, play a little basketball. Mostly I hang out with my partner." 

"Have you been working with him long?" 

"Not really but we got close fast. What about you?" 

"Work is pretty much my life. It seems like there's an endless supply of artifacts to be examined. And I'm out of town a lot so there's not much time for a social life." 

"You're not married?" 

Daniel sighed. "I am married but my wife is missing. We keep looking but it's been two years now so..." 

Ray rolled on to his side. "Damn, that's rough," he said, sympathetically. 

"Well, we know she's still alive and we won't stop looking for her so there's always hope." 

"Two years is a long time to be alone." 

"I'm not alone." Daniel looked at his hands before glancing back to Ray. "I have Jack. And there's Sam too and Teal'c. They keep me from getting too morose. When there is downtime, Jack and I spend a lot of it together unless he's going fishing or something." 

"That's your team leader, right? The colonel?" 

"Yeah, that's Jack, our fearless leader. He's a good man, a smart man even though he tries his best to hide it. There's nobody better to have when things start going to hell." 

"I know what you mean. Fraser's like that. He gets us into all kinds of crazy stuff but it's not because he's reckless or stupid. Far from it. He just sees what the right thing is and he makes a beeline for it. Even if it gets us into trouble, it's still okay because he's totally solid and he always has a way to get us out." 

"I think Jack would say that I'm the reckless one. He can't make a soldier out of me no matter how hard he tries and it makes him a little crazy." 

"Fraser's the freak in our partnership. Nobody really gets him, you know, except me. But that's okay because it kind of makes it our secret. Not that I don't tell him that he's a freak because he is and I do. But that doesn't mean I don't understand him." 

"I don't think Jack understands me at all. I think he sees me as some kind of alternate life form." 

"It makes it hard to work with him, huh?" 

Daniel shook his head. "No, not really. We argue all the time and even if he doesn't always respect my opinions about...work-related things...he always listens. I guess I'm right often enough to keep his attention." 

Ray yawned impressively. "It sounds hard. Having to prove yourself all the time." 

Feeling like he'd been insulting Jack and wishing he hadn't, Daniel stood up. 

"Don't you do the same thing to your friend when you're telling him that he's a freak?" 

"No, I don't," Ray shot back but his expression was troubled. 

Daniel regretted his attack immediately. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair." 

"Listen, I'm, uh, I'm going to take a little nap. I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open." Ray's voice was flat. 

Selfishly, Daniel hated to lose the company and he knew that Ray was irritated with him, which he wanted to clear up, but he couldn't justify keeping a sick man awake just to ease his own guilt or to have someone to talk to. 

When Daniel heard the sound of a key in the lock he stood up from his place at the end of the bed. Ray stirred then slowly sat up but he didn't stand. 

Todd and Laurel entered without the gorilla this time. They were both armed with .380 semi-automatics. Daniel recognized some pride in himself at recognizing the weapons. He'd have to tell Jack. 

"We're convinced that Ray doesn't know anything, Daniel," Todd said. 

"Gee, what gave me away?" Ray asked, sarcastically. 

"Good," Daniel said. "If you're convinced then you can let us out of here." 

"I didn't say that you had convinced me. I think you'll both need to stay until this is over." 

Daniel was surprised by the wave of annoyance that overtook him. He knew that he should feel afraid but found that he was only irritated. 

"Do you remember when you lived at the house and how we didn't really get along?" Todd asked. 

"I remember you took all your petty crap out on me, is that what you mean?" 

"You didn't like me, did you?" 

"No, I didn't. I didn't like being used as an outlet for your drunken grievances." 

"So, you took my negative to get even." 

Daniel sighed. "Back to that again. Look, I didn't know enough about your work to even guess that stealing a photo would cause trouble." 

Todd took a few menacing steps closer to him. "Why should I believe you?" 

Daniel recoiled at the smell of alcohol on his breath. "Because you were there. I tried to stay out of your way, Todd, that's all I ever did." 

"Maybe it's time to inject Ray again, what do you think?" 

Daniel stepped in Ray's general direction without thinking. He felt his heart picking up at the threat. 

"Why would you do that? He doesn't have what you want." 

"But you do and you won't tell me. Maybe if you see what it's like for somebody else then you'll be less willing to go through it again." 

"He's sick, running a temperature. You don't want to risk injecting him again." 

Todd seemed surprised by the news. He nodded towards Laurel who grabbed Daniel and threw him face first into the door. Daniel landed with an oomph as he heard Ray yelling out an objection. Laurel kept his hand planted in the middle of his back while the gun barrel lay dangerously close to Daniel's face. 

"He is hot," Todd said. 

"Get off me," Ray growled. 

"That's right. He needs to get out of here, to a doctor." An uneasy silence followed Daniel's demand. Daniel felt the hair on his arms prickle against his skin. 

"Then you need to tell me where the negative is. My own son was almost killed because of that piece of history so don't think for a second that this will end before I have it back," Todd said. 

"Connor?" Daniel asked. 

"Just tell me where it is," Todd demanded. 

"I don't have it. I never had it." Daniel was desperate. He hadn't had time to process the information about Connor and he didn't want anything else to happen to Ray, but he didn't know how to convince them that he was telling the truth. 

"Give me the needle," Todd said. Laurel took his hand off Daniel's back but the gun remained. Tired of being manhandled, Daniel shoved him away. He turned around with a glare for the man in the Stan Laurel mask, daring him to react. The man just shook his head but the expression in his eyes was lethal. Daniel looked back at Todd who was holding the needle in one hand and his gun, aimed at Ray, with the other. 

"That's stupid. Why are you doing something so stupid?" Daniel demanded. 

"Where's my negative?" 

"God. I don't know. I do not know." 

All activity stopped for a moment as the gorilla stalked into the room. He wasn't armed with anything but anger. Grabbing Daniel roughly, he threw him towards the bed. Daniel landed on the edge sitting with the impact to keep from falling over. He started to stand up but the gorilla shoved him back down. 

"Hey, settle down," Ray said. 

"Shut up," Todd ordered. Laurel took Todd's place guarding him. 

The gorilla dragged Daniel's arm out straight and Todd wrapped the rubber cord around it. Daniel closed his eyes. He opened them to look into the bright blue eyes of the man in the gorilla mask. 

"I don't have it," he said softly. 

"You have it," the gorilla said before slapping Daniel lightly across the head. 

Daniel just held his breath when Todd handed over the syringe. The prick of the needle felt like a gouge into his skin. 

* * *

Ben 

Ben entered the bullpen flanked by Detective Dewey. Dewey was being unusually kind towards him but he knew that was only because they'd failed. Todd Fleming's studio address was nothing but a vacant office. There was no sign of Ray or of Ray having been there. No GTO, no bits of clothing, no signs of any kind to lead them in any direction. 

Welsh met them in the middle of the room. 

"Lydia Fleming is in Interrogation Room 2. I had her picked up at Fleming's residence. She says she hasn't seen her husband in about a month." 

"I want to speak with her," Ben said. 

"I figured. Detective Huey is with her." 

Ben did an about face. He watched through the two-way glass for a moment while Jack Huey spoke in soft tones to a sobbing Lydia Fleming. Ben opened the door getting the attention of both of them. 

In the same moment Bob Fraser appeared as well. Ben sighed. He had enough to deal with without his father's interference. 

"So that's Lydia," Bob said. "Todd talked about her all the time but I never had the pleasure." 

"And you won't now either," Ben murmured then addressed Fleming's wife. "My name is Constable Benton Fraser. It's my partner who's missing." 

"I don't know where your partner is, I swear," she wailed. "Todd doesn't even live here anymore." 

"Oh, likely story," Bob said. "Your mother always knew where I was, let me tell you, even when I was a thousand miles away in the deepest snows of the season." 

"Where does he live?" Ben asked, throwing a glare in his father's direction. 

"I've already gone over it, I mean, I'm not arguing, I just, we've been talking about it for so long." 

Huey stood up. He stopped at Ben's side and whispered, "She doesn't know what her husband's been doing. She's just scared, Fraser." 

"Thank you, Detective. I'll keep that in mind." 

Huey left them alone. Ben took the seat across from Lydia. He carefully placed his hands, palm down, on the table as he leaned forward a few inches. He hadn't intended to intimidate her but she recoiled at the motion so he relaxed his stance and sat back. She dabbed at her tears. Running mascara, blotchy red spots and swollen eyes made her look ugly and frail. 

Bob sat in the chair beside her. "She's shaking like a leaf over here, son." 

"Where does your husband live, ma'am?" Ben asked softly. 

She sniffled. "Colorado Springs, Colorado. He has an apartment that he uses as a studio." 

"When did he move there?" 

"About...about seven years ago." 

"But you didn't go with him?" 

"No. We, uh, we have a son." She burst into fresh tears. "I'm sorry but he was in an accident recently and he's in the hospital." She sniffled. "It's been awful not knowing if he'd even survive." 

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am." 

She dabbed at her eyes with damp tissue. "Thank you. He's getting better but he has months of therapy ahead of him. He nearly lost a leg and there was the skull fracture and they had to take his spleen. It's a miracle he survived." 

"Your son, his name is Connor, is that right?" 

"Yes." She smiled weakly. "He's doing so much better than the doctors predicted." 

"Get on with it, son, we don't have all day," Bob said. 

"That's a relief to you, I'm sure," Ben said, deliberately ignoring his father. "Did your husband come here to see him after the accident?" 

"Just the first week. It was uncomfortable for both of us and he and Connor aren't close. That's not to say that Todd doesn't love him, it's just that he's, he's not good at expressing his feelings." 

"You and your husband are still married?" 

"We are but we haven't lived together for a long time. The long distance, it didn't work for us. We're married, not divorced or legally separated or anything like that but we're not really together either. I hadn't heard from him in months before Connor's accident." She burst into tears again. "I can't imagine he'd kidnap a police officer, I just can't imagine it." 

"Go easy, Benton, you're making her cry," Bob said. 

"All right, Mrs. Fleming, you're doing just fine." Ben waited until she calmed down again. "Now, what is Todd's profession?" 

"He's a freelance photographer. He takes photos on his own and he sells them to magazines. He's even had a couple of gallery bookings with just his work." 

"Does he support you?" 

"No, no, not anymore." 

"Do you have his current address?" 

"Uh, yes, it's...he wrote it down." She started digging around in her purse. "He gave it to me just in case I needed to reach him about Connor." 

"What do you know about your husband's military record?" 

"He was in the Air Force but he doesn't like to talk about it. Oh, here it is." She produced a folded piece of notebook paper. Ben took it from her. 

"I'm just going to have a copy made of this. We'll give it right back." 

"All right," she agreed. He stood up to take the address to Francesca when the room door burst open. 

Lydia jumped as Ben turned to greet their visitor. He was surprised to see a stranger in the doorway with Lieutenant Welsh directly behind him. Dressed in tan khakis and a black t-shirt, the stranger had graying hair but a solid build. He'd be a challenge if it came down to a fight, which seemed possible since he was clearly upset. 

"Oh, boy," Bob said, standing up. 

"Where is he?" The man demanded, leaning over the table at the frightened woman. Ben immediately stood to put himself between her and the threat. He found his first assessment confirmed as the older man pushed past him. 

"Colonel O'Neill, this is my department," Welsh said. 

"Where is your husband?" O'Neill said, sidestepping Ben's second attempt to provide a buffer between him and Lydia Fleming. 

"I don't know," she shouted at him as she backed up against the wall unknowingly stepping right through Bob. 

"Colonel," Ben said, this time making himself impenetrable. "You are frightening Mrs. Fleming for no reason. She's perfectly willing to cooperate, now, please, sir, let's go into the other room." 

O'Neill stopped to look at Ben, clearly assessing the situation. Throwing his hands up in frustration he left the interrogation room with Ben following. In the observation area, Welsh stood waiting with Bob beside him. 

"I won't tolerate anyone causing a ruckus in my police station, Colonel." 

"I'll do whatever it takes to find my man, Lieutenant." 

"We are every bit as anxious to find our man as you are to find yours." 

O'Neill paced a few steps, when he turned back around, he had calmed though and Ben thought he might be seeing the Air Force Colonel instead of the frightened man who burst in before. 

"All right," he said. "What have you got?" 

"Mrs. Fleming doesn't live with her husband and does not have regular contact with him," Ben answered. "Their son was in an accident recently and he did make an appearance at hospital. He gave her his address." Ben handed the piece of paper to the lieutenant. 

"I'll have Miss Vecchio run it," Welsh said before leaving. 

"I think I'll just go with him," Bob said and followed Welsh into the hall. Ben scratched his eyebrow, keeping his relief to himself. 

"Colonel Jack O'Neill," O'Neill introduced himself as he held out his hand. Ben shook it. 

"Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." 

"What's your connection to all this?" 

"I work as liaison officer between the Canadian Consulate and the Chicago Police Department. Ray Kowalski is my partner." 

O'Neill frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that supposed to make sense?" 

"I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father. And for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I remained." 

O'Neill blinked. "Okay. What's Kowalski's relationship to Todd Fleming?" 

Ben gave a concise synopsis of everything they knew to date, then asked O'Neill to do the same. 

"Daniel Jackson is a civilian expert working with the US military. It's secret stuff so the connection might be there but the Flemings were also his foster family so it could just as easily be something from his childhood." 

"Ray knew Todd Fleming as a boy and Daniel Jackson also knew him as a boy. The logical assumption is that there's some mutual event from that time that's caused their kidnappings." 

"Does Kowalski know Daniel?" 

"He's never mentioned him but I can't say with any certainty." 

"We had a friend named Kawalsky but he's dead so, you know, it's not yours." 

Ben nodded. "Apparently not. There's one other thing that may have some bearing on their disappearances. I also knew Todd Fleming when I was a teenager." 

"Did you know your partner or Daniel?" 

"No." Ben proceeded to explain his association with Fleming. By the time he was finished, O'Neill was sitting in one of the observation chairs looking stunned. 

"Did you know that he was CIA?" Ben asked. 

"He's not. He wasn't." 

"According to my government..." 

"If he was CIA, it would've come back in the inquiry we ran before I left." 

"I was told that he was." 

"You were misinformed." 

Ben didn't know what to make of that revelation so he filed it mentally for the time being. 

Sitting down in the chair beside O'Neill, he stared through the glass at the sniffling Lydia Fleming. 

"He traveled with my father around the same time as his lessons with Ray and while your Doctor Jackson was living with him. Whatever he wants with them is likely connected to those trips." 

"It was twenty years ago, why would it matter now?" 

"That's the primary question, isn't it?" 

"I'll see if I can find any connection to the CIA." 

"That would be helpful. While you do that, I'll finish up with Mrs. Fleming." 

* * *

Jack

Jack found his way back to Welsh's squad room. He asked the pretty woman who apparently acted as their secretary if he could use a phone. She pointed towards a desk in the back while she eyed him carefully. 

He took a seat behind the desk with a nameplate for Detective Ray Vecchio. Glancing across the room back towards the secretary he found that she had a nameplate labeling her as Francesca Vecchio. She was still staring at him like a predator. 

Jack picked up the receiver and dialed Cheyenne Mountain. Within moments he was speaking with General Hammond. 

"Yes, sir, I'm here in Chicago. I need to know what Fleming was doing in Canada back in the seventies. It looks like it's related to Daniel and the detective who's missing." 

"I don't understand, Jack, why would his work then be related to the kidnappings now?" 

"I don't know yet. But Fleming knew Daniel and Detective Kowalski back then and it's the only thing that connects them. Maybe they overheard something that's coming back to bite Fleming now. I won't know until I get a look at the records. I also need to know if he has any CIA connections." 

"Why would you think he does?" 

"I don't but there are people here that do." 

"The CIA doesn't like to share, you do know that." 

"Yes, sir, I do. But right now, I'll take any leads I can get. I don't even know if Daniel is here, or in Colorado, or if he's even...alive anymore." 

"I'll do what I can to find out. Captain Carter is leading a team that's scouring the neighborhoods around the address that Doctor Jackson went to but, so far, no one saw anything unusual. I have another team talking to his friends and acquaintances. Someone is bound to know something." 

"The police here are doing all that too. And we've got Fleming's wife. Detective Kowalski's partner is talking to her but it doesn't look like she knows anything." 

"Hang in there, Jack, we'll find him." Jack didn't have a response but he appreciated the support. 

"I'll phone as soon as I get any more information," Hammond said. 

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." 

After Jack hung up, he went to find Constable Fraser. He stopped to look through the observation glass when he found him sitting alone. He seemed to be staring into space, his hands curled into fists on the table. The pale blue Henley that he wore was slightly rumpled but Jack had the feeling that even slightly was unusual. 

In that unguarded moment, believing that he was alone, the pain reflected in Fraser's expression was startling. 

Jack waited a moment, giving the other man some time but he couldn't delay for long. He knocked lightly on the door. By the time he pushed through, Fraser had returned his features to show only the serious determination that Jack had observed during their first meeting. 

"Mrs. Fleming went home. She doesn't know the whereabouts of her husband but she promised to phone if she heard from him," Fraser said. 

"I've got an inquiry going for Fleming's CIA records if there are any." 

Both men fell quiet for a few moments. Jack let his mind process what they'd learned but he didn't want to think about action, he wanted to storm something and bring Daniel home. He paced the room, trying hard to banish the images of all sorts of terrible things that might be happening to Daniel. Too often the images were actual memories, too often he'd been unable to prevent terrible things from happening to him. 

"I want to go to Fleming's studio," Jack said. 

"I just returned from there. There's nothing unusual." 

"Take me anyway." 

Jack was glad when Fraser didn't argue with him. 

* * *

Ray

He hated to admit that he was sick. He didn't think it was the drug either. He'd had the flu often enough to recognize the symptoms. He knew he should tell Daniel that he wasn't having a reaction to the drug or to getting thumped by the trio that snagged him. And Ray would tell him, if Daniel ever woke up. 

Todd had injected Daniel, then the guy in the gorilla mask took the lead on questioning him. They went at it for a long time. Ray had kept his eyes on Todd and really didn't like how much his old teacher was enjoying the show. The gorilla hadn't physically hurt Daniel while he questioned him but Daniel had been suffering anyway. The drug caused stomach cramps and nausea and confusion and, apparently, getting jabbed repeatedly didn't ease any of that. 

Ray hadn't been able to intervene with Stan Laurel aiming a gun at him and threatening to do worse if Ray didn't behave. Without any choice, he had sat by while the interrogation went on until finally, mercifully, Daniel had passed out. 

The bad guys left right after that, but the gorilla returned bearing crackers, fruit, cheese and water. He'd also brought a bottle of Ibuprofen and told Ray to take it for the fever. While Ray had been suspicious of the pills and the food, he decided that since they weren't sneaking around about drugging them, they probably wouldn't do anything to the food. 

He refrained from eating too much because he wanted to wait for Daniel but the water was necessary and he swallowed two of the painkillers. Normally, he would have taken three or four with the first dose but he didn't know if the bottle would get replaced and he didn't know if Daniel would need them too. 

Ray had to admit he was worried about his fellow prisoner. Not because he seemed incapable or anything but because he seemed entirely too calm. Ray had complained and stomped around at least twice but not Daniel. Daniel had just watched him, waited for him to calm down and then went back to trying to figure things out. 

Ray found that coming face to face with Todd again was startling and uncomfortable and strange. But, how much worse had it been for Daniel? Todd had hurt him as a child, which was bad enough. But add in that Daniel was an orphan who probably needed some normality and stability and Todd's behavior seemed monstrous. And here Daniel was again, vulnerable and under Todd's control. 

Daniel should be a mess. 

But he wasn't. 

Just to be honest, Ray had to admit that he wasn't holding up as well as Daniel. Fraser remained a constant presence in his mind. Fraser would be near insane worrying about him and he hated that idea and he missed him so much that his insides ached. He didn't want Fraser to be kidnapped or drugged but he wished for his presence just the same. 

As Ray nibbled on a cracker, Daniel started from sleep to alert in the span of a few seconds. Ray jumped up to check on him but the dizziness that swept through his body made him wish he hadn't. By the time he felt steady, Daniel was already on his feet and heading into the bathroom where the sound of retching soon followed. A few moments later Daniel appeared, pale and holding an arm over his belly. 

"That's starting to hurt," he said softly. 

"You want to come over here and drink some water?" 

Daniel raised his eyebrows then squinted in his direction. "Water?" 

"And food." 

Moving unsteadily he started the few steps towards the grocery bags. Ray met him halfway before maneuvering him back to the bed. 

"Scratch that, just sit there. I'll bring it," Ray said. 

"You're still hot." 

"You're pretty sharp too, cookie." 

Daniel barked out a laugh but he sobered fast. "It's not a good sign." 

"I have the flu. Hot and cold flashes, skin hurts, headache, muscle pain, all equaling that great equalizer among men, the flu." 

"It could be a reaction to..." 

"Nope. I spent some time in the company of a flu-ridden, fever-racked Mountie and it looks like he shared." 

Daniel seemed to consider that before he changed tactics. "Since we have water then you should drink as much as you can. And you should rest. The flu isn't something to mess with." 

Ray handed Daniel a cup of water. The Igloo on the floor had been delivered full so, for the moment, they had plenty. 

"You're dehydrated. It's not cold but it'll do. Just go slow," Ray said. Daniel took the cup, draining it in a couple of swallows. He hunched over almost immediately. 

"Slow, you know, like sipping." Ray scolded. "The cramps don't last. Just give yourself time to adjust." Ray massaged Daniel's shoulder while he spoke. 

Daniel nodded as Ray retrieved more water. This time he sipped as instructed and Ray was glad to see the relieved bliss cross his features. 

"As soon as you feel like you're ready, there's food too." Daniel's stomach growled. "And that would be now, I guess," Ray said. 

"I'm sorry," Daniel muttered. 

"It's been days, Daniel, you're allowed to be hungry. Hang on a second." 

Ray hoped he didn't look as unsteady as he felt as he went back to the grocery bags. The fever and aches were making him wobbly, not to mention, irritable. Of all the times to get sick, this had to be the worst. Like it wasn't bad enough getting stuck with a needle and shot up with God only knows what, he had to add his own germs into the mix, or actually, Turnbull's germs that happened to adopt him as their new papa. 

"Did you say you got sick from being around a Mountie?" Daniel asked, apparently just remembering Ray's earlier explanation. 

"Didn't I tell ya? My partner's a Mountie so we spend a lot of time at the Canadian Consulate. One of the guys there gave it to me." 

Ray rummaged in the grocery bag and came up with a couple of apples and a box of Ritz crackers. He returned to sit down heavily next to Daniel, exhaustion catching up with him. As Daniel took the food, he gave Ray a worried once over. 

"I'm okay," Ray assured him. 

"You need to rest while you can. You don't know what's going to happen next so we need to be ready to act if we get the chance." 

"That's kind of strategic for an archeologist, isn't it?" 

"I have a good teacher." 

"Jack?" Ray ventured. 

"Yeah. Some of the work I do required that I learn some skills." The first hint of a smile came to Daniel's eyes but that was replaced quickly with something sad, maybe despair, maybe longing, maybe both. 

"We're going to be okay." Ray patted his shoulder before he pushed himself backward to the head of the bed and lied down. "You should get some sleep too." 

"I think I'll eat first." 

Ray closed his eyes. "Ya know, we're going to have to make our own way out of here." 

Daniel turned a little to look at him. "I know." 

"Do you figure the military is looking for you?" 

"Yeah. I'm sure they are." 

"Well, I got a Mountie looking for me. He's a great tracker." 

"They always get their man?" 

Ray laughed. "Dudley Do-Right always got his man. Benton Fraser prefers their real motto, Maintain the right. 

Daniel turned away so that all Ray could see was his back and his hand bringing a cracker to his mouth. A small crunch followed. Ray closed his eyes. 

"Do you think we're in Chicago?" Daniel asked, sounding kind of lost. 

"We are definitely in Chicago. Nothing but nothing smells like Lake Michigan." 

"I was taken from Colorado." 

"Yeah, I know, you said that." 

"But I used to live here." Daniel took another bite of cracker. "I don't have a lot of good memories of Chicago. Even after I started working with Dr. Jordan, I still never really liked being here." 

"I don't have a lot of comparison. Chicago's been home my whole life." 

Daniel stood up. He brushed some crumbs off himself as he walked over to the door that locked up their prison. He leaned his head against the painted metal. 

"It's not the place, it's the circumstances," he said. 

"You're overtired, Daniel and it's messing with you. The drugs, the isolation, these are not good things, right? It's time to get some sleep." 

"I usually have my team with me. Really bad stuff happens but when we're together we look after each other." 

Ray wanted to sleep but he forced himself to get off the bed. He walked the few steps over to Daniel. Luckily the ibuprofen was helping with the general pain so he didn't hurt too much. He put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. The other man flinched at first before he turned around. 

"I'm not your team but I'm not playing for the other side, okay? I'm keeping an eye on you just like you're watching out for me." 

"We don't even know each other. Jack would have my head just for trusting you." 

"Look, Jack isn't here and right now what we got is each other. I don't like the idea of trying to take those guys by myself tomorrow, how about you?" 

"Tomorrow?" 

"Times a wasting, Daniel, I'm growing old here." 

"Yeah, you're right. We have to take them tomorrow." 

* * *

Jack 

Jack finally found the time to thoroughly read Todd Fleming's file. He had brought it with him from Colorado but in the rush to look for Daniel, he hadn't taken the time to do more than skim the information. 

Just as Constable Fraser had warned, the trip to Fleming's studio was a bust. Neither of them saw anything that might be a lead to Daniel or Ray Kowalski. When they returned to the station, it was early evening and they decided to start going back through the files to see if they'd missed anything. 

He read the summary of Fleming's arrest back in 1978. The charge was disorderly conduct. Apparently he had made a ruckus in a restaurant, terrorized his wife and kids and then the restaurant manager or waiter or...cook...called the cops. He re-read it. Oh, Christ, he thought. 

He walked over to Francesca Vecchio's desk. She had gone home an hour earlier. The rest of the day staff had filtered out shortly after that. 

Jack sat down behind her desk and puttered through her files hoping to find a duplicate of the one that Fraser was using. The Constable was in an interrogation room because he preferred the quiet while he worked, but Jack had wanted to stay in the main detectives' room. He didn't know these people well enough to trust that they wouldn't miss a vital piece of information. 

One of the day detectives, a tall, black man introduced as Detective Huey approached him as he rummaged around. 

"Can I help you, Colonel?" 

"All I have is a summary on Fleming's arrest in '78 and I want the whole report. I thought it might be in this mess somewhere." 

"Francesca wouldn't appreciate you disturbing her desk and I'm sure she doesn't have what you want. You should probably go see Constable Fraser. He has everything we've managed to gather so far." 

"Yeah, okay, thanks," Jack said though he was starting to feel the tension build behind his eyes. 

He rubbed his forehead as he felt the first pangs of a headache beginning. He missed Daniel. He was terrified of what might be happening to him and frustrated with their lack of progress. He was angry with himself for not telling Daniel how important he was to Jack's life and even angrier that he hadn't gone with Daniel to meet Fleming or convinced him not to go. 

Why hadn't he tried harder? Why hadn't he gone with him? 

Because Daniel was going to kiss you before that phone rang, Jack's traitorous brain reminded him, and you were scared to death. So you made a big deal out of the phone call and then you retreated like a coward. 

"Colonel O'Neill?" Jack came out of his memory to find Fraser studying him like a bug on a board. 

"What?" He demanded at his curious expression. 

"Are you all right, sir?" Fraser asked. 

"Yeah, sure, great. You got that report?" 

"Which report would that be?" 

"Sorry, a little scattered here, the one on Fleming's arrest. Disorderly conduct." 

"Those pages are back in the Interrogation Room where I've been working. Would you like to accompany me there?" 

"Yeah, I would." 

Jack followed Fraser back to the room where they'd held Lydia Fleming. He had a knot in his stomach at the information contained on that report. If the restaurant was a diner and it was called Breezy or Chilly or Windy or anything like that then he'd know. 

Once inside the room, Fraser shuffled some papers around, then pulled out the report. 

Jack took it. He read it and then read it again. The names of the boys weren't listed, just that they were white, male and there were birth dates. Lydia Fleming had been interviewed. Boyd Prescott, the cook and owner of the Windy Diner had refused to press charges. Second Lieutenant Jonathon Neal had given a statement. The police officer had messed up his name but there was no question that this was the incident that Jack had been involved in. The boy scrambling away on the floor, scared and resigned, had been Daniel. 

"Son of a bitch." 

"Sir?" Fraser asked, looking up from his file. 

"That was me." 

"Who?" 

"The Second Lieutenant, that was me. Jonathon O'Neill," he pointed at himself. "They got my name wrong. The kids were Daniel and Fleming's real son, Connor. God, that bastard was beating up Daniel and I didn't do a thing." 

Jack handed the file over then shoved his fists in his pockets and leaned against the two-way mirror. Fraser glanced through the report. Jack was surprised to see that he was actually reviewing the contents. A couple of moments later he said, "Actually, it appears that you intervened and asked for the authorities to be called. Short of following them home, what do you think you should have done?" 

"It was Daniel. I shouldn't have just left him behind." 

"He wasn't the person you know now, Colonel. He was just a boy in a diner and you did try to help him." 

Jack pushed a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated and useless. 

Fraser's voice was gentle but firm. "Colonel, when did you eat last? Or sleep?" 

"I'll sleep when we get them back." 

"That's not a militarily sound decision, Colonel. Your body needs fuel and it needs rest. I want to find Ray more than...more than...well, suffice to say, I want to find him. But my mind isn't working properly at the moment. If I want to help him then I have to take care of myself, even if it's just the bare minimum." 

Jack hated being wrong. He hated having it pointed out, even politely, that he was wrong. If he were off planet now with the team depending on him, he'd make them stop, make them eat, make them rest because it made sense, because it was necessary. He knew better than to run himself into the ground because that would lead to mistakes, and he couldn't afford to make any right now. 

"Have you had the opportunity to find a hotel?" Fraser asked. Jack shook his head, feeling numb. "I'm staying at Ray's apartment. You're welcome to use his couch. We can get take away on the way home. If we bring the files, we might be able to get some more work done before the night is through. At the very least, we can start again early tomorrow." 

"You don't have to put me up." 

"It's after eleven. There's no point in trying to check into a hotel tonight." 

Jack considered the offer. He really didn't have anything to lose by accepting and since the Constable was as motivated as he was then they'd probably get more accomplished together than separately. 

"All right," he said. "Thanks. I just need to call the base before we leave." 

Jack checked in with the General only to find that the CIA denied any affiliation with Fleming and Carter hadn't found anything during her door to door search. 

He hung up with a sigh. "There's nothing yet." Fraser only nodded. 

* * *

Ben 

Jack O'Neill drove them to Ray's apartment since Ray's car was missing too. They stopped at a fast food hamburger stand on the way. As his stomach rumbled, Ben wondered if Ray had enough to eat. What he had said to Jack was true, they needed to take care of themselves, but he still felt guilty. 

When they reached the apartment, Diefenbaker was waiting irritably. Ben had left him behind when he went to the station because he hadn't realized that Ray was truly missing yet. If he had known, he would have brought the half-wolf to help in the search. When it finally became apparent that Ray was gone, there had been no time to retrieve him. Consequently, Dief had been cooped up in the apartment for nearly seventeen hours. Unfortunately, Ben's dereliction had caused him to leave a mess and brought out his bad temper. 

"I know Dief, I'm sorry but I've been trying to find Ray," Ben said as he put towels down then took him outside. 

If Jack thought talking to Dief was unusual he didn't mention it. He just emptied the food bags and asked permission to find drinks. Ben told him where to find the kitchen and glasses before he went out. 

Once Diefenbaker had the opportunity to get outside and to relieve himself, his annoyance turned to concern. He whined and licked Ben's hand as they took the elevator back upstairs. 

Ben finished cleaning up after him, fed him then washed his hands before joining Jack in the living room. Jack was already halfway through his meal by the time Ben started eating. 

"I'm sorry about the mess. Dief is normally quite well-behaved indoors but I'm afraid I've neglected him." 

"Hmm, walk the dog or find your missing partner, yep, I think you made the right decision." 

Ben nodded, grateful for the other man's humor. 

"How long have you two been partnered?" Jack asked. 

"About a year." Ben hesitated a moment. "It hasn't been long enough." 

Jack nodded as if he understood. From the worry lines marring his expression, Ben thought he probably did. 

"There's been a few times when I've thought that Daniel died," Jack said. "But I still can't imagine what it'd be like to lose him." 

"Ray jumped in front a gun wielding performance arsonist on the day we met and took a bullet for me. In a sense, I think we bonded at that exact moment." 

"It took Daniel doing almost the same thing... minus the performance arsonist...to even get my attention. He was such a geek back then, I could barely stand him. But the geek thing is just a small part of what he really is." 

Jack's eyes betrayed his fondness for his missing teammate. Ben wondered if his own expression advertised the same thing. 

The phone rang. Both men stared at it for a moment, fear paralyzing them. Ben steeled himself and lifted the receiver. 

"Fraser, it's Tom Dewey, I think I have something for you. Can you meet me?" 

The conversation didn't take long. Detective Dewey had received a phone call from one of his informants that sounded promising. The informant hadn't shared much information but Dewey considered him dependable. 

Riding along with Jack to the meeting was nearly as harrowing as riding with Ray but Ben didn't ask him to slow down. He needed to find Ray with the same intensity that a hungry infant needs to eat. He wouldn't survive if he didn't. 

He spotted Dewey on the designated street corner with a fidgeting individual wearing a felt, wide-brimmed hat. Ben pointed them out to Jack who found the next closest parking space. It was late enough that there were few cars on the street so they didn't have to walk far. 

Dewey waved at them and then put a cautioning hand on the arm of the man beside him. 

"Hi Fraser," Dewey called out when they were close enough. 

"Detective," Ben greeted him. 

"This is my buddy, Chuck Van Doren. We've been doing business for a few years, haven't we, Chuck?" 

The informant was quite young, not much more than a boy. He had the complexion and blood-shot eyes of someone who hadn't lived well in some time, if at all. 

"Yeah, sure. I help you out sometimes." After agreeing he made a point to make eye contact with Ben and Jack before returning to his darting glances around them. 

"And you can help my friends here, can't you?" 

"Yeah, you know, uh, my buddy, my, uh, friend, you know, Joe Young, he got into something and now he's out but I think, he, uh, knows stuff." 

"Who is Joe Young?" Ben asked. He hoped to get the information before Jack turned aggressive. He could already feel the tension radiating off the older man and it reminded him of Ray. 

"A guy I know, hang out with a little." 

"What stuff does he know?" Jack asked. 

"I think he knows about that missing cop, you know, the one everybody's been asking about." 

Ben felt the pounding of his heart pick up a faster pace. "Where is he? Can we meet him now?" 

"It's not like that," Chuck said, holding up one hand as if to stop Ben from going forward. "Joe is...well, he's just hired muscle, you know, small time stuff like if you want your kid's boyfriend to take a hike or you want to get somebody's attention. But last week, a guy came into the bar we were at and wanted to hire him. It turned out to be a bad deal." 

That was sufficiently vague to be useless, Ben thought sourly. Chuck looked at them expectantly. 

"Tell them the rest," Dewey encouraged. 

"You're gonna like, pay me right? Cuz, you know, I don't do no charity work." 

"You'll get paid, just like always. But I need to hear it to know the value." 

Dewey was firm, clearly knowing how to make use of him. Chuck seemed to respond to the tone as he leaned slightly in Dewey's direction, most likely feeling the impatience radiating from both Ben and Jack. 

"We, uh, we hung out for awhile the night he took the job. Joe is one of those guys that can like, drink forever and you don't think he'll ever feel it and then he just gets all stupid. When Joe gets stupid, he starts talking." 

"Then he told you about his new job," Ben said. 

"Right." The more comfortable Chuck became, the more animated he became. He was practically bouncing as he continued. "He was all excited about it. Said this was his first, honest to God, kidnapping. You know, bragging about it. And he said he was going to be busting down on some geeky scientist guy and a cop, no less. He said the guy that hired him told him up front what he was getting into since cops are so," his voice deepened. "He's my brother in blue, man." Then he laughed and swatted Dewey lightly on the arm. Dewey just shook his head at the playfulness. 

"Did he say where he was meeting his new employer or where they'd be keeping their kidnap victims?" Ben asked. 

"Nah, no details like that. But, you know, I figured you could ask him yourself." 

Dewey stepped away from Chuck with a puzzled expression. Clearly, that comment surprised him as much as Ben. If possible, Jack grew tenser and then all at once he let out some air and seemed to relax. Ben didn't share his sudden comfort level. 

"How will we do that?" Dewey asked. 

"He's at the Hideaway. That's why I, uh, figured you'd wanna know right away." He said this if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He glanced at Dewey as if he expected more intelligence from him. 

"Is that a bar?" Jack asked sounding almost casual. 

"Yes," Ben answered. "It's only a few blocks from here." 

"Does this mean the job is finished, Chuck?" Despite the relative calm in Jack's tone, Ben realized there was real malice in his intentions. He hadn't calmed, he'd shifted into battle-ready. 

"How do I know?" Chuck said, oblivious to the danger in front of him. 

"Is there anything else you want to share?" Jack asked, pointedly. 

Chuck thought about it. "No, I think that's everything." 

"I'll go with Chuck. You back me up," Jack said to Ben and Dewey. 

"Hey, slow down, cowboy, we need to call this in," Dewey said. 

Ben was careful to sound reasonable. "I think we should obtain the information and then contact Lieutenant Welsh." He didn't want twenty police cars bearing down on the bar and scaring Joe Young into silence. 

"Go with Chuck? What does that mean? Go with Chuck? Chuck's not going," the young man interrupted, obviously distressed. 

"We don't know Joe Young," Dewey said. "You have to point him out to us." 

"He's got a record. You must have a picture." 

"There's no time for that. You'll need to introduce Colonel O'Neill." 

"No, I don't. Joe's my friend and I do not want my friend to murder me." 

"Hey, Chuck." Jack put his arm around the informant's shoulders. Ben watched him carefully, half-expecting him to do harm. "All I need is a head's up. Say hi to him, wave at him from across the room, whatever works for you. And then stay out of the way. You have to stay around though because if you leave, it'll make him suspicious. We don't want that, right?" 

Chuck nodded but he still looked stunned. 

"Good. So you'll just clue me in to who he is and then kind of fade into the background. You can do that for me, can't you? No danger. Your friend will never know you snitched him out." 

"Really?" Ben almost felt guilty at his hopeful tone. It was likely that Joe Young would figure out who turned him in. 

"Sure. Why would he know? You're there, he's there, you're both where you're supposed to be." 

"Excuse me, Colonel, a word, please," Ben interrupted. Jack scowled but he followed Ben a few steps away. 

"Jack..." 

"I'm the best choice, Fraser. I know how to get into places without looking on the sly." 

"I agree. I'm not particularly well-trained in undercover matters and at any rate, since I live here, I have a greater chance of being recognized. It makes sense for you to infiltrate the bar and make contact with Mr. Young. I was just going to suggest that you try to lure him into the alley behind the bar where Detective Dewey and I will be waiting. I would like to take him into custody quietly to avoid any information leaking back to his former employer." 

"Then what are we doing over here?" 

"I didn't think it was prudent for Chuck to know of our plan. And I wanted to make certain that you were going to tread carefully around Joe Young." 

O'Neill flashed a disarming smile but there was nothing warm in the expression. "I just want Daniel back." 

"And I want Ray. Please don't risk them in your zeal to rescue them." 

* * *

Daniel 

Ray was sleeping restlessly. He made pained noises and kept pulling the thin blanket over himself only to push it off. He would wake from time to time with eyes that were bright with fever only to close them again without real consciousness. 

Daniel woke him periodically to give him the Ibuprofen but it was difficult to know when without a clock. He had no sense of time in the closed up room so he paid attention to his symptoms. When Ray seemed to grow more uncomfortable or felt hotter, Daniel would make him take two more pills. 

Daniel slept when he could but he was always worried that Todd and company would come in while he was sleeping. He didn't like being that vulnerable. He also had anxious memories of being awakened by Todd when he was a teenager. Todd would literally drag him out of bed until he'd land with a thump on to the floor. This would inevitably be followed by a lot of shouting and occasionally hitting. Daniel knew he wasn't that boy anymore but the memories lingered making it difficult to close his eyes. 

Of course between the drug they'd been using, the boredom of waiting, the solitude and the stress, he couldn't help but sleep. The activity just wasn't restful or soothing. 

He had to admit it was odd sleeping next to Ray as well. Normally, on missions, the team slept close to each other. Jack tended to sleep near Daniel and that was fine by him. Despite all the terrible things that befell them both off world and on, he still felt safest when Jack was near. 

God, he missed him. He depended on Jack's humor, his never-say-die attitude and his command but he had to admit it was more than those things he was missing. He missed Jack, his presence. 

Ray moaned, then groaned, then said, "Ick." 

Daniel had been lying on his back, half dozing with his thoughts. He turned on to his side. The odor of sickness hung in the air combined with old perspiration. Ray was dripping. His forehead and hairline were wet and his t-shirt was damp. He rubbed his hands into the sheets. 

"I think your fever broke," Daniel said, grimacing a little. 

"Me too. God, I need a shower." 

"They brought food. Maybe personal hygiene is next." 

Ray just growled before he pushed his legs under him and went to the bathroom. 

Daniel stretched. He didn't know how long it had been since his last injection but the aftereffects seemed to have worn off. Exhaustion made his limbs feel heavy and his mind was sluggish but he didn't feel sick. He stopped in mid-stride as the impact of that hit him. 

"Ray," he called out. "I think...do you think...this could be bad." 

Ray came out of the bathroom. He was too pale but the flush of fever had faded. 

"Spit it out," he said, irritably. 

"I've been giving you Ibuprofen to keep the fever down." 

"Thank you?" Ray asked, warily, wondering what Daniel was trying to say. 

"I woke you up and gave it to you three times. If it's supposed to work for four hours then..." 

"It's been at least twelve hours since I went to sleep." 

"And twelve hours since Todd was here. It's a long time." 

"Okay, but it probably hasn't been. I mean, that stuff never works as long as it says." 

"Even at three hour intervals, that's nine hours and you didn't go to sleep right after they left. I had to wake up and then we talked, we ate..." 

"They left food. If they wanted us to die, they wouldn't have left food." 

"Maybe, maybe not. He could've just decided to prolong the inevitable. Or something has happened and they can't come back." 

"Thinking like that is a loser's game," Ray said but Daniel could tell he was worried. 

"We have to get out of here." 

"Have you looked at the door, Daniel? It's steel and there are no hinges on this side. The lock is all shiny and new so I don't think we can expect it to fall out. And looking around this place, do you see anything that we can use to tunnel through a plaster wall?" 

Daniel stood up. Absently he picked an apple out of the bag near the door. He took a bite as he paced. 

"The bathroom," he said. 

"So, go." Apparently, Ray was still irritable. 

"The plumbing for the toilet has to go somewhere. If we can get it out of the way, we might be able to get through the floor or the wall. There has to be some break." 

Ray scratched at his neck thoughtfully. "Toilets are usually bolted to the floor." 

"We won't know unless we look." 

For better or worse the opportunity to check the toilet never came. Their prison door opened to admit Todd and Stan Laurel. Laurel was still holding his trusty .380 but Todd had traded his in for a simple handgun. 

More dangerous than the gun itself was the way Todd looked. His eyes were bloodshot, watery and swollen. His skin carried a reddish pallor. Unused anger thrummed outwardly like a force of its own. Daniel recognized the signs immediately. Todd was coming off a serious drunk. 

"I want my negative," Todd slurred. 

"What negative?" Ray asked from a few feet behind Daniel. "What's the picture? What does it mean? Why is it important?" 

"It's not what, it's who." 

"Who? Who wants it, Todd? What's in the picture?" 

"He shouldn't have been there, don't you understand? I caught them, two pictures left in my camera and there they were and I snapped them both off because I knew they shouldn't be there. No time to reload, right, just the two photos. I knew it but I didn't know why and the CIA, they didn't figure it out either. They never knew I had more than one shot because I never told them. I put the second picture away for a rainy day and that day came last October." 

"Who was in the picture, Todd?" Daniel spoke slowly. 

"Why do you care? He's not buying the negative from you. He's not buying it from anybody; he just wants it. He wanted it before but I didn't have it so he ran Connor off the road just to prove he was serious." 

"Oh, Christ," Daniel muttered, disgusted. 

"Why do you think I have to have it?" Todd starting pacing, waving his gun back and forth while he mumbled to himself. Daniel glanced at Ray who was watching Todd intently. 

"What was going on in the picture?" Ray asked. 

Todd sighed, clearly frustrated. "They were meeting. Major Forrester and Kurt Stand. He must've been helping Stand with the Russian stuff but who knew? I mean, the first picture had them both but the second picture was just Forrester and that's the one I tried to sell the CIA because an American Air Force major shouldn't have been in the Northwest Territories. Except they didn't want the picture, they said it wasn't anything. Like I was supposed to believe that Forrester would've been hanging around in full uniform in ten feet of snow on vacation or something." 

"Hey, enough with true confessions," Laurel interrupted. "If they got the negative, then they know what's in it." 

Todd stopped pacing to aim a suspicious glare at Daniel. "Yeah. You're just stalling." 

"No," Daniel said, carefully, "I don't have the negative." 

"You're a liar and we are gonna find out where it is or nobody's getting out of here." 

* * *

Jack 

Joe Young appeared well suited to his profession. He was tall, wide-shouldered and muscular. He exuded a simplicity that probably worked well for someone taking orders. Jack thought he would make a good Marine grunt. 

Jack watched his prey drink his fifth beer and down another shot of whiskey. He could feel Chuck watching both him and Young. Young had said little since they arrived but he had been drinking steadily. 

"You're Chuck's dad, huh?" Joe asked Jack. 

"Yeah, sure." Jack wasn't happy with Chuck's impromptu introduction. 

"He never mentioned you before." 

"Family is private," Jack improvised. 

"My old man is the only good one in the family. Mom's a lying whore but he stayed with her to watch out for me." 

"He sounds like a good man." 

"I guess dads are like that. Either all good or all bad." 

Great, Jack thought, philosophizing with a two-bit thug. After two hours of pretending with him, he was getting anxious. Fraser and Dewey were waiting in the alley but the minute he met Young, Jack knew that arresting him wouldn't work. The man was a professional and he was seasoned enough to know better than to talk to the police. Letting him drink and relax, that was the way to get information. 

"So, how'd the job go?" Chuck asked Joe, changing the subject. Joe chugged through another beer and chased it down with whiskey. 

"It was fucked up. I had to quit so I didn't get all the cash coming to me. Should've known better than to take a job with somebody I don't know. I'm too old for this shit." 

Chuck glanced at Jack. Jack motioned with his chin to keep Joe talking. 

"Quit, huh, how come?" 

"Cuz it was stupid. Trying to get something when you know the guy doesn't have it. I mean, why bother?" 

"What were you doing? " Jack tried to sound casual. Joe looked him up and down, sizing him for trust and apparently finding him worthy. 

"Oh, you know, helping a guy get back some property." 

"What property?" Joe hesitated again but Chuck patted Jack on the back in a gesture of familiarity. Jack was impressed with the informant's instincts. 

"It doesn't matter because they didn't have it. I tried to tell the guy that. I mean we went after one of them pretty hard with that spy drug stuff, but it didn't do anything except make the poor bastard sick. So after we were done I told the guy, I said, they're like Schultz, right? They know nothing." 

Jack hid any reaction but his chest constricted at the mention of drugs. 

"I pulled him aside, you know, one professional to another even though I knew I was the only professional there. I mean you don't drink when you're on a job, right? I asked him about the picture that he wanted and he just freaked out. He was sure I must know what the picture was. He started carrying on about it being in all the papers and on the news and ah, hell, who knows?" 

"Did you ever figure out what the picture was?" Chuck asked. 

"It was that spy, the guy who worked for the FBI and got busted selling secrets to East Germany. It was like a year ago, him and his girlfriend were in on it. The girl was a lawyer." 

"Theresa Squillacote and Kurt Stand?" Jack asked. "He was looking for a picture of them?" 

"Yeah, see, you ought to read the papers like your old man," Joe said to Chuck then he turned back to Jack. "Right, except the girl wasn't there. It was just Stand and some old Air Force officer trading an envelope in the middle of Whothefuckcares, Canada." 

Jack kept his expression carefully neutral despite being rocked by this new information. 

"But you don't think the guys you were questioning had the photo?" 

"A negative, not a picture and no, they didn't have it. But, he told me I needed to go back in there and really get their attention anyway and I wasn't doing that, not for no reason. He gave me half what he promised and I got the hell out of there." 

"But Stand and Squillacote are already under arrest so who wants the negative?" 

"The Air Force guy. I guess he's like some retired Colonel now, collecting a good pension and he does not want the negative to surface." 

Jack was more than surprised to see Ben Fraser stroll up to them, looking like a cat in a fishbowl. To his credit, the man didn't flinch or seem as if he noticed how out of place he looked. Fraser walked directly up to Joe Young and tapped him on the shoulder. 

"I need you to come outside with me, sir," he said, carefully. 

Joe just looked at him and dismissed him in the same breath. Jack couldn't help but be impressed when Fraser gracefully and easily grabbed Joe by the arm, spun him into a circle and had him pinned to the ground in one fluid move. Joe was no lightweight and Jack jumped in immediately to keep him down but Fraser barely broke a sweat through the whole maneuver. 

"Where are they?" Jack demanded, kneeling close to Joe's ear. "I don't want you. I want Fleming and I want the hostages." 

"You bastard, Chuck, you fucking bastard," Joe yelled out. Jack grabbed his hair to get his attention back. Fraser continued kneeling against his back maintaining an arm hold that, judging from the angle, was just short of painful. 

"Tell me and you spend one night in a cell and then you go home. Do you hear me? One night in jail when I got you dead to rights on kidnapping. You won't get a better deal than that." 

"I'm sorry, man," Chuck whined. "It's money, ya know, I needed the money." 

Joe growled. Jack released the hold on his hair and his head dropped. 

"Tell me." 

"Why do I got to do the one night?" 

"So that you don't have a sudden sense of loyalty and phone your employer," Fraser said. 

"All right, all right," Joe relented. "But just one night. I'm getting too old for this shit." 

* * *

Ray 

He could hear the commotion and the yelling and the pain. He couldn't see it, locked inside the bathroom, wrists handcuffed behind him. He rammed the door with his shoulder a few times but all that got him was a bruised shoulder. No one even yelled for him to stop. They were far too intent on what they were doing. 

What they were doing. 

Ray slammed into the door again. He yelled through the thin wood but it was useless. 

Todd and Laurel were beating the crap out of Daniel Jackson and he couldn't do anything but protest. He was glad he couldn't see it but he wished he was out there to stop it. 

It was hell listening. The questioning, the denials, the sounds of blows landing were like a culmination of every nightmare he'd ever had. To be a witness but unable to stop the violence cut into the fiber of his core instincts. 

He tried lying on his back and kicking at the door but it didn't so much as creak with the impact. He cursed, ignoring the niggling doubt in his mind. After all, he was handcuffed. Even if he managed to break through the door, how much would he accomplish other than getting thumped too? 

He rejected the thoughts. Daniel and him might not be exactly friends, but they had been thrown together. They'd tried to look after each other. He wasn't willing to stop trying now. 

Ray drew his legs back, kicking forward with all his weight and nearly threw his back out when the door opened before impact. 

"Oh, tired out, are we?" Ray asked, sarcastically, as he looked up at Todd who was sweating and sporting a couple of good bruises. Way to go, Daniel, he thought. 

"Get out here." All the exercise had left Todd red faced and sweating. The stink of alcohol leaked out of his pores. 

Ray rolled to his knees then carefully to his feet. The ill effects of the flu had left him weak and just a little off balance but he managed. 

As he came into the room, he found Daniel first, lying on his side in the middle of the bed, his legs were curled up and inward and he'd wrapped his arms around his middle. His face was red with bruises that were coming, one eye was open and one was swollen shut. 

"The next time I tell him to do something, he'll do it," Todd said, simply. 

The unpleasant bark of a laugh drew Ray's attention to Stan Laurel who had lost his mask. Now he was just a blond haired thug holding an automatic weapon with hands bruised from the abuse inflicted on another. 

Laurel spoke in a singsong tone. "I remember you." 

"Yeah, that ten minutes or so I was gone must've been hell on your memory." 

"Oh, Sister Mary Katherine would be so sad that you forgot Catholic school." 

Ray scowled at him. He didn't have a clue what Laurel was talking about. 

"You're a disappointment too, Ray," Todd said, regaining Ray's attention. "I tried to teach you but you just wouldn't learn. You wouldn't exercise the discipline." 

Ray didn't have a response or a desire to skip down memory lane. 

"Where is my photo?" Todd yelled. Ray flinched away from the fury standing inches away. "He'll kill me and if he kills me, who do you think will let you out of here?" 

Ray was disgusted. "How does he even know about the second photo? You tried to jack him up didn't you? But he didn't want to pay, he just wanted the damn negative." 

Todd grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and slammed him into the wall beside the bathroom door. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and crushed his arms. Todd let go and Ray sank to his knees, gasping for breath. He could hear Fraser's voice in his head telling him not to panic, to take slow breaths. It felt good to hear him even if his body felt like all the bones had shifted forward a few inches. 

"I want my negative!" Todd screamed. Then he heard Daniel cry out. Through watery eyes he could see Todd pulling him off the bed by one leg. 

Obviously disoriented, Daniel yelled, "I'm sorry." When he hit the floor he curled up a few feet from where Ray was kneeling. His voice dropped to a whisper and Ray had to concentrate to hear him mumbling, "I'll do it now. I'll do it now." 

Unused to holding back his anger, the sad murmurings sent Ray into overdrive. He launched at Todd with all the strength he could manage going from a crouch to airborne and it was enough to knock Todd off balance. They both went down but Stan Laurel was in the fight before Ray had the opportunity to do much damage. Laurel pulled him off while he struggled and fought back until a well-placed punch to his kidneys sent him crashing back to the floor. 

"Just like old times," Laurel said. 

"Why would you blackmail somebody if you didn't even have the goods," Ray gasped at Todd. 

"I had it...I had it...I didn't have to look, it was there," Todd said. 

"The last few days are proving you wrong." Ray hung his head, breathing through the pain of getting kicked. 

"I don't think they have it," Laurel said. "Even Kowalski wouldn't be stupid enough to keep hiding it now." 

Todd nodded, surveying his damage, his eyes shining with desperation. "Maybe the other one...Bob's son. He never liked me. He was always following me. I'll bet he took it. I took the photograph in Canada so it makes sense he'd know about it, right?" 

Laurel shrugged. "Yeah, sure, I guess." 

"He was so polite all the time. I just...I knew I couldn't trust him. He was the sneakiest one of all." 

Daniel moaned softly catching Ray's attention. He blinked his one good eye open. "Jack?" He whispered. 

"It's okay, Daniel. It's Ray. You're all right." Ray wished his hands were free so he could touch Daniel just to reinforce that he wasn't alone. His breath caught as he realized that Todd was listening to them. 

"That's right, Daniel, you're not hurt." The soft crooning was sick under the circumstances. 

"Stop it," Ray demanded. 

"I will get my negative." 

Ray watched the gun go up as Todd came at him and knew he was about to learn what getting pistol-whipped felt like. He flinched away, surprised when Todd tumbled into and over him instead. Ray couldn't believe he'd tripped until he saw Daniel's hand curled outward. 

Laurel laughed at Todd but he brought his gun up at the same time. Todd swore viciously as he regained his balance and pointed his handgun at Daniel. Laurel aimed at Ray. Ray chanced a glance at Daniel but he'd closed his eyes, either unconscious or bracing for the end. 

"Wait," Ray said. He exhaled. "I do have it." Todd's eyes narrowed, the doubt and suspicion obvious, but there was hope there too. "I can...it's in a...in a...locker. I can tell you where but you'd need the key and, uh, I've gotta get that for you." 

"He's lying," Laurel said but Todd hesitated long enough for a knock on the door to interrupt everything. 

Ray figured it must be the gorilla coming back. He was the only player missing. Ray grimaced as he shifted the weight on his knees. His lower back throbbed and his arms hurt. 

From the way Todd and Laurel were looking at each other, they weren't expecting whoever was knocking. They moved into action fast though. Todd pushed Ray's head to the carpet and ordered him to stay down. He didn't say anything to Daniel but he was already down so what would've been the point? 

The knock came again. 

The bad guys stood with their backs to either side of the door. 

"What are you doing in my house?" Todd yelled through the door. "You're trespassing." 

"Yes, I am," The voice was so familiar that Ray's throat ached with wanting to see him. "My name is Benton Fraser, Mr. Fleming, you knew my father." 

Ray lifted his head up hoping the cavalry consisted of more than one Mountie. 

"I have a photograph that you took when I was a boy. My father developed the negative and asked me to hold it for you. You do remember Sergeant Robert Fraser, don't you?" 

Ray frowned, not understanding what Fraser was talking about. Was he bluffing somehow or did he actually know Todd Fleming? And how weird would it be if he did? 

"Your father had it?" Todd asked, his voice reflecting nothing but confusion. 

"Yes, sir. He asked me to bring it to you if Kurt Stand was ever arrested. I apologize for not coming sooner." 

"Your...your father is dead." Confusion had mixed with fear and Ray was worried he might just shoot through the door. 

"Yes, that's right. You do remember me, don't you?" 

"Yes...yes. I'm going to come out but...I need you to wait in the outer room for me." 

"Don't do it," Laurel hissed. 

"It's all right," Todd said to Laurel. "I told you he might have it." 

"It's a fucking trap," Laurel said. 

Todd went quiet but he hadn't opened the door. Damn second thoughts, Ray figured. Please don't shoot through the door. It was metal, would a bullet go through or bounce back? Would Fraser know enough to stand away or would he be so focused on the rescue that he'd forget? 

"Go stand in the bathroom doorway," Todd said to Laurel. "If anyone comes through that doesn't belong shoot them." Laurel stepped over Daniel who hadn't moved in too long and passed Ray who considered tripping him but decided the situation was too tense at the moment. Please, Fraser, don't walk into a bullet, Ray thought. 

"I'm opening the door," Todd said. 

The door only managed a few inches before it burst in with force. Ray immediately pushed himself up only to have Laurel bat him back down. He flinched in time to miss a boot to the face but the kick landed with surprising accuracy against his shoulder. He didn't hear the telltale crack of a broken bone but his vision got hazy with pain as he landed on his back. There was a lot of yelling that he couldn't interpret but no shooting. He tried not to pass out but the thrumming in his shoulder turned vicious when he tried to move. 

* * *

Ben 

Speaking with Todd Fleming through a steel door and knowing that Ray was behind that door was both frustrating and nerve wracking. Having Bob Fraser standing in front of the door, kicking it, was disconcerting. Even though his leg disappeared through the metal with every thrust, Bob continued trying. 

When Fleming finally agreed to open up, Jack nodded at Ben from his hiding place. Ben knew they both had been holding their breaths, wondering if they'd made a mistake. Fleming could easily have panicked and murdered Ray and Daniel Jackson before they ever got in. 

But he didn't. 

As soon as the door cracked open, Ben rushed forward with Jack propelling them both into the room. Detectives Huey and Dewey and twenty more officers followed Jack. 

With the room filled to capacity, Fleming was shocked into immobility and Ben disarmed him easily though he put him face down on the floor with more force than was strictly necessary. 

Bob smirked as he stood above him. "Got you now," he said. 

Fleming's cohort tossed his weapon on to the bed and knelt without being told. He locked his hands behind his neck, obviously used to the experience of being arrested. 

Jack Huey took over the job of handcuffing Fleming who was sobbing incoherently while Tom Dewey took possession of his weapon. The whole operation took less than three minutes. 

Freed from his role as the arresting officer, Ben turned his attention to finding Ray. His breath caught when he spotted the familiar boots on the opposite side of the bed. 

"Daniel...can you hear me? Danny, come on, buddy, can you hear me?" Jack's voice shook as he hovered over his friend. Ben guessed he was caught between wanting to touch and being afraid to hurt him. Daniel Jackson had obviously been severely beaten. 

Another officer had already reached Ray. She was...talking to him...and his mouth, his mouth was answering. Ben breathed. As he approached, he stepped carefully around Jack. The officer moved out of the narrow space for him. She pressed a set of handcuffs into his hand. 

"I took these off him. I'll go make sure the medics are on their way in," she said. He nodded at her gratefully before kneeling down. 

Ray's eyes were closed, his face frozen in a grimace. 

"Ray," Ben whispered. Glazed eyes blinked back at him. 

"Hey, buddy, I missed you." Ray's voice was rough with pain. 

"You're hurt." Ben felt the breath grow hard in his lungs. 

A couple of officers shoved the bed out of the way before they picked up Fleming's accomplice, now handcuffed and demanding a lawyer. They dragged him out through the open space they'd created. 

"Not as bad as him." Ray nodded in the direction of Jack and Daniel Jackson then winced with the effort. "You got help coming?" 

"Of course. We'll get you both to hospital." 

Ray seemed to study him for a moment before worry overtook his features. He tugged his hand gently away from Ben's. Ben didn't understand; was afraid in the not knowing, but Ray just brushed a finger beneath Ben's eye. When he pulled his hand away there was just a trace of moisture on the tip. 

"I'm okay," Ray said. 

"I didn't know if we'd find you," Ben whispered. 

Before Ray could answer, someone announced the arrival of medical help to join the throng of people already moving around. There was such a crowd as it was, Ben didn't know how they'd find room. But like an outgoing tide, officers vacated while a wave of emergency workers entered. 

* * *

Jack 

Jack didn't know what to do and he wasn't used to feeling that way. He wanted to hold Daniel, to warm him and comfort him but in the face of Daniel's injuries, in the midst of so many strangers, he just didn't know what he could or should do. He settled for brushing the hair away from Daniel's face and for holding on to a hand that was too cold. He settled for speaking nonsense because at least talking wouldn't cause pain and maybe Daniel could hear him. 

Daniel's right eye was swollen shut and his left was badly bruised and puffy, his breath sounded wrong but he was breathing. Jack wanted to kill the blubbering piece of garbage that had been dragged out of the room. He wished for Teal'c because Teal'c would have killed Fleming without a second thought. And Jack wished for Carter because she'd know what to say, she'd know how to give comfort. 

He spared a glance towards Fraser and found him speaking with his partner. Kowalski looked damaged but not irreparable though it was hard to tell from a few feet away. A couple of police officers moved in to shove the bed against the nearest wall and Fleming's partner was taken away. Someone announced that the ambulance was there. 

"It's okay now, Daniel. We're going to take care of you, don't worry." Nothing, not so much as a twitch answered his reassurances. 

When the medics arrived, they nudged him out of the way, politely but firmly giving themselves space to work. Jack looked across the room to see that Fraser had been removed as well. Fraser met his gaze with a question. Jack could only shrug. 

* * *

Ray 

Bundling Ray up for the trip to the hospital hurt. Moving him from the ambulance to the emergency room hurt and, despite the best efforts of doctors and nurses and other medical type people, moving him from one gurney to the next hurt when they finally got him inside a treatment room. 

If Ray had to find a bright spot, which he figured he should at least try to focus on, it was that no matter what they did or where he looked, Ben was always close by. Okay, maybe not inside the ambulance, but when they loaded him in and then took him out, Ben was right there. 

Like everything else about the last few days, the medical exam was painful and so were the x-rays. They didn't dare give him any drugs until they got his blood work back so he just concentrated on being glad that he was free, that Ben was there and that he had survived. And he tried not to concentrate on the pain. 

The doctor said the blood work came back fast but Ray didn't agree. However, the bottom line was that there was nothing in his system to worry about. They finally gave him something to knock down the pain and it nearly knocked him out in the process. That wasn't a bad thing though since they started moving and shifting him to get him into a sling that kept his left arm pinned against his chest. They said it wasn't broken but there was some bruising and swelling. 

He liked the pain meds. Hell, he always liked pain meds, probably too much, really. He liked the way they made everything kind of floaty and soft. He liked that he didn't hurt anymore. 

The doctor told him that besides the shoulder, he was also recovering from a strain of the flu virus. He said a lot of things that Ray only half listened to, but he wasn't worried because Ben was close by and Ray knew he'd be listening to every word. 

"When do I get out of here?" Ray asked Ben after the doctor finally left them alone. The bed had been elevated so he was partially sitting up. Ben wrapped Ray's good hand in both of his. 

"He wants to watch you for a couple of hours but it should be tonight." 

"What about Daniel?" 

"He's going to be all right. They didn't find any internal injuries or broken bones which from the looks of him is a miracle. He does have a severe concussion though and they're somewhat concerned about damage to his eyes." 

Ray felt the world tilt as the painkillers surged up. He closed his eyes hard for a moment to shake off the threatening unconsciousness. His actions almost had the opposite effect but he managed to push off the inevitable again. 

"His eyes?" 

Ben squeezed his hand gently. "I think they're just listing worst case scenarios, Ray, I'm sure he'll be fine." 

"He's, uh, he's a good guy, Ben." 

"I'm sure he is. Colonel O'Neill is certainly dedicated to him." 

"It's mutual." His words sounded off even to him, slurred and uneven. 

"Ray, why don't you lie back and stop fighting the medication. You'll feel better if you get some sleep." 

"Just keep an eye on him, will ya? On both of them." 

"I will but I'd feel better if you'd close your eyes..." 

"What about Fleming? Where is he, what's going on with him?" 

"He's in custody along with his partner. Detectives Huey and Dewey are leading the investigation." 

"There's a gorilla too." Ray closed his eyes with a sigh. It felt so good to drift. 

* * *

Ben 

Ben watched as Ray finally let himself surrender. He wrestled back the anxiety in his belly, knowing how close he had come to losing him. 

They had found the gorilla mask and the "Stan Laurel" mask that Bud Abbott had worn so Ben wasn't worried about Ray's apparent non-sequitar before he went to sleep. He'd explain later the deal that Jack made with Joe Young. They could both draw comfort from knowing that the same benefit would not be extended to Bud Abbott. 

Ben dismissed those thoughts as he gazed down at his drowsing companion. Standing so close to Ray, feeling the limp hand, warm and safe, tucked securely inside his own, he was able to release some of the tension he'd been carrying. 

He waited and watched as Ray's breathing evened out, as his chest moved into the soft rhythm of sleep. In a few hours, he would take Ray home, make him comfortable in their bed and revel in the relief of having him there. 

He didn't tell Ray that Fleming was in custody but being treated somewhere nearby. Fleming had turned hysterical as soon as he reached the police car and Welsh had ordered him brought to hospital for treatment. Ben didn't think it would help Ray to know that his kidnapper occupied a similar space to his own. 

Loathe to leave him but knowing he needed to check on Jack and Daniel, Ben made certain they were alone and kissed Ray lightly on the lips. Then with a last caress across his cheek, he left the cubicle. 

Just as he reached the exit that would lead to the waiting area, Lieutenant Welsh came through the door. 

"How is he?" Welsh asked. 

"He's resting. His shoulder was bruised badly enough to require a sling. They gave him something for pain and he's somewhat disoriented now but relaxed. Thankfully, they don't expect any ill effects from the drug that his kidnappers used." 

"That's good. We found Fleming's stash. I don't know what the chemical name is but it's supposed to be a truth serum. It wasn't very effective so the military stopped using it a couple decades ago. The stuff Fleming was using was way out of date so it probably didn't do what he wanted anyway." 

"Have they determined where he obtained it?" 

"Well, we know he was running with some CIA types so he had access. I doubt we'll find out who gave it to him or why." 

Unsatisfied with the answer but knowing that Welsh was probably right, Ben decided to dismiss those concerns as well. 

"I'm going to look in on Ray before I head back to the station," Welsh said. "Then I'll start sorting through this mess. We found Ray's car in the garage beside the house and had it towed to impound. There's not a scratch on it." 

Ben brightened. "That's good news. He'll be relieved." 

"Yeah, I know. Huey's going to drive it over to Kowalski's apartment after forensics finishes with it." 

"Thank you, sir. I'm just on my way to see about Dr. Jackson's condition." 

"Fifth floor, room 512." 

Ben thanked him again and headed upstairs, glad that someone familiar was checking on Ray. He took the elevator then followed the arrows to Dr. Jackson's room. 

He found Jack pacing back and forth at the end of the hospital bed. He suspected that Daniel was sleeping though it was difficult to tell with loose bandages taped over his swollen eyes. Jack looked up as Ben entered then put a finger to his lips and motioned him outside. They walked a few steps away before Jack spoke. 

"He's sleeping." 

"Is there any news on his sight?" 

"They really can't tell much until the swelling goes down but the doctors are all optimistic. They're saying the patches are just a precaution and we should know more tomorrow." 

"I'm sure it will work out." 

"You bet it will." Jack sounded defensive but as he pushed a hand through his hair he seemed to retreat a bit. "Daniel's a survivor. He gets knocked down a lot but I've never known him not to get back up." 

Ben nodded encouragingly as they turned around to head back towards Daniel's room. 

"I wanted to thank you," Jack said. "You could've been an ass and you weren't." 

"Our goals were the same," Ben said simply. 

"Like that usually matters." 

Jack cracked a smile that might be the first one Ben had ever seen from him. He returned the expression and felt more of the tension flow out of him. 

"How's your partner?" Jack asked. 

"He's sleeping but he should be released in a few hours." 

"They're holding him for observation, huh?" Ben nodded. "S.O.P. for doctors." 

"I don't mind. I'd rather be safe though I suspect that Ray disagrees." 

"I hear that. Daniel could argue the paint off a post to get out of the infirmary." 

Jack glanced back down the hall. The longing in his expression was enough hint for Ben. 

"I'm going back downstairs to wait for Ray's release. Can I do anything for you before I go?" 

"Nah, we're good. The rest of the team should be here in a few hours and with any luck we'll be able to take Daniel home in a couple days." 

"If I can help, don't hesitate to ask. Or if you need a place to stay, then..." 

"I'll be staying here. But, thanks, I appreciate it." 

"All right then. I'm going back downstairs to Ray's cubicle." 

The two men walked back towards Daniel's room before Jack stopped them a few feet away. "Fleming is here, you know. Eighth floor." 

"I knew he'd been admitted." 

"I'm not telling Daniel until we're out of here. He doesn't need to be worrying about that." 

"Understood," Ben said. 

* * *

Jack 

Jack pulled the chair a few inches closer to Daniel's bed. He still didn't feel close enough but short of lying down beside him, he'd gone as far as he could. Daniel remained asleep. Jack knew that was a good thing since Daniel needed to rest, to let his body heal but Jack wished for him to wake anyway. He just wanted to reassure him that he was safe, that the danger had past, that Jack was there for him. 

He wondered how he would tell Daniel that he was the man in the restaurant all those years ago. That he'd intervened in that one incident, only to forget about the boy that was so obviously in trouble. That he'd never made a phone call, never followed up to make certain that Fleming was dealt with. He'd never called Social Services or written a letter or even reported the incident to his CO. Jack had done nothing besides break up one stupid fight in a restaurant and then he never looked back. 

His inattention, his lack of concern, his mishandling of the situation had consigned Daniel to two more years of abuse at Fleming's hands. How was he ever going to tell the most important person in his life that he had failed him completely? 

He was so intent on regret that he almost missed the first sign of consciousness that Daniel made. A slight curling of his hands, a small sigh. Then he shuddered and gasped and Jack put both hands against his bare arm. 

"Take it easy, Daniel, you're all right." 

"Jack..." The sound was barely a whisper. 

"I'm here. You're in the hospital, Daniel, you're okay." 

"Ja...Janet?" 

"No, not the infirmary, we're still in Chicago. Sam and Teal'c are on the way though." 

Panic set in a moment later as Daniel automatically tried to reach towards his face. 

Jack held the arm holding the IV down. "They're covered, Daniel, but it's just a precaution." 

Daniel patted at the bandage with his free hand. "Blind?" 

"No, absolutely not. It's a doctor thing, it's nothing to worry about." 

Jack had to smile at Daniel's trust as he settled back down. "That's good." 

Jack thought he'd gone back to sleep until Daniel spoke again. "I missed you." 

"Me too." 

"I knew...knew you'd be looking." 

"What? You didn't know I'd find you? Where's the faith, huh?" His teasing was rewarded with a weak smile. 

A soft sigh and Daniel seemed to drift off again. But only a moment passed before more breath was brought in to speak. "How's Ray?" 

"He's better than you. Bruised arm...shoulder...something. They're letting him go tonight." 

Daniel shuddered again and this time his hands gripped the blanket covering him. 

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Are you in pain?" Jack asked. 

"Todd...where's..." 

"He's in custody. Him and his little playmate." 

"He used to...there's a lot of bad memories, Jack." 

"I know. I know a little bit about it." 

"You do?" Daniel yawned, his body shaking with the effort. 

"We'll talk about it later. You need to go back to sleep." 

"Okay." 

Jack wished vaguely that Daniel always followed orders that easily. He left his hand over Daniel's arm though he pulled the blanket to cover the chilled skin. 

God, Daniel, I love you so much, he thought as he lay his head on the mattress. 

"I love you too," Daniel said, sleepily. 

* * *

Daniel 

Daniel woke up thinking about shock grenades that made a person go temporarily blind. His eyes hurt, for that matter just about everything hurt. Buried in the sound of refrigerated air and the footsteps clicking on a hard floor and the soft murmurings of voices, he could hear snoring. It was deep and quiet and intermixed with the exhalation of breath. He recognized the sound. He'd heard it many times off world. 

As he focused his remaining senses, he noticed the light grip of hands against his arm and guessed that Jack was holding on to him. 

With a jolt that shot straight to his stomach, he remembered Jack whispering, remembered hearing the words he had needed for so long. He had answered too, he was sure of it. He'd reciprocated. Partly hoping he'd dreamed it and partly hoping that the secret was finally out, he couldn't wait for Jack to wake up. 

"Jack," he said, wiggling his arm. "Wake up, Jack." 

"Wh...?" 

"My arm's asleep." He felt stupid the minute he said that. 

"Sorry." Jack's voice was heavy with sleep and he groaned as he shifted. "How're you feeling?" 

"Fine, I'm fine." 

"You sound upset. What's wrong with you?" 

"No, I'm not, I...maybe we need to...Jack, do you remember last night?" 

"I remember." Daniel wished he could see Jack's face, he wanted to read his expression, get some clue if he was afraid or disgusted or angry. "Listen to me carefully, Sam and Teal'c came in early this morning. I don't know where they are right now so we're going to have to wait on this conversation." 

"Just tell me if I was dreaming or if you really...if I said...I have to know." 

"You weren't dreaming. I didn't mean to say it out loud but since I did, it's all out there now." 

"I meant it. Not like friends or brothers or..." Daniel felt a gentle squeeze on his arm. 

"I meant it too. Just the way you did." 

Daniel reached up with his free hand, searching in the general direction of Jack, wanting to touch his face, needing some kind of contact. Groggy and sore, he wasn't sure of anything, even Jack's words, though he wanted to believe. Jack caught his hand. He must have been reading Daniel's mind because the next thing Daniel felt was the rough texture of whiskers against his palm. 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

Daniel cleared his throat, caressing Jack's cheek lightly until his arm grew tired. "Sam and Teal'c are here?" 

"Yep. Got in a couple of hours ago. Teal'c wants to hunt down Fleming and Carter is encouraging him." 

"Do they know...you know...my history with..." 

"They know he was your foster parent but that's it. You can tell them the rest if you want, but that's your decision." 

"Thanks." Daniel yawned and wished he hadn't when it pulled at the bruises on his face. He winced. 

"Go back to sleep, Daniel, we'll still be here when you wake up." 

"I want to see Sam and Teal'c." He laughed and winced again. "So to speak." 

"The bandages are temporary." Daniel recognized Jack's serious voice. He was trying to reassure Daniel by ordering him to believe. 

"I know, I know. My eyes just itch and it's hard not being able to see you." 

"You've seen me plenty of times, Daniel, just picture what you think I look like, you're probably right." 

Daniel lowered his voice. "I don't want you to be scared of this, scared of us." 

"I'm only scared of announcing it to the world when we still have a job to do. They won't let us stay in the program if we're too honest. I swear we'll talk as soon as it's safe." 

Daniel nodded, hoping he seemed more certain than he felt. 

"Trust me, Daniel." 

"I do. I do, Jack, more than anybody." 

"Then go back to sleep, will ya. You're making me nervous." 

Daniel relaxed back into the bed, content for now, knowing that Jack was there and he wouldn't leave. Sleep seduced him until he couldn't fight it anymore. 

* * *

Jack 

When Daniel woke a few hours later Carter and Teal'c were waiting. Carter held his hand and fussed while Teal'c promised to avenge his injuries. Daniel had to convince him not to really take action because some people might say it, but Teal'c would actually do it. 

Jack stayed out of the way while his team reconnected after their latest trauma. He could tell they were all feeling shaky over this one. It was easy to get used to the violence and mayhem off world but here on earth they all wanted to feel safe. It was an illusion that Daniel's kidnapping shattered spectacularly. 

"Our flight leaves in about an hour," Carter said, rubbing her hand over Daniel's. Jack was surprised by the sudden jealousy that her kindness invoked. He took a breath and stayed at the end of the bed. "So we should get going. General Hammond gave us the leave but he's not comfortable having the whole team off base." 

"I believe his concern is with me, Captain Carter," Teal'c said. Jack knew he was right. Hammond might like Teal'c and he probably wanted to trust him, but having an alien running around earth just added a level of strain. 

"I'm staying, Daniel," Jack said. "We'll go back together when you're up to it." 

"Thanks, Jack. I'm sorry you two have to leave so soon." He waved in the general direction of his two teammates. 

"We look forward to your return to the base, DanielJackson. I know that Dr. Fraiser is anxious to make certain you are being healed properly," Teal'c said. 

"Let's worry about that later, all right? Fraiser can wait," Jack said. 

"For what?" Ray Kowalski startled the four of them when he asked his question from the doorway. Fraser was standing beside him looking curious. 

"Yes, what can I wait for?" Fraser asked. 

"Not you," Jack answered, turning around. "Dr. Fraiser is our base doctor. She's used to patching us up and she's looking forward to getting her hands on Daniel. Detective Kowalski and Constable Fraser, this is Captain Carter and, uh, Mr. Teal'c." 

They all started exchanging first names and handshakes and Jack couldn't help grinning when it was Teal'c's turn and he just dropped the mister from his title. If Kowalski and Fraser noticed they didn't comment. 

Kowalski looked better than he had the day before. The lines around his eyes seemed a bit pinched and Jack guessed he was still in some pain but he seemed rested. Fraser had apparently gotten some needed sleep as well. 

"Hey, Daniel," Kowalski said as he made his way to the top of Daniel's bed. 

"Hi, Ray, how's your flu?" 

"You cured me, I guess. Now, if they'll just let me ditch this sling, I'll be good as new. How about you?" 

Daniel made an attempt at a shrug but didn't accomplish it. He pointed towards his eyes. "Just waiting on this." 

"I'm sorry," Carter interrupted. "Daniel, we really have to go." She nudged Kowalski out of the way with a bit more possessiveness than she needed but Jack wasn't jealous of that. Looking out for each other was a full-time job and Kowalski was okay but he was an interloper on the team. Carter kissed Daniel's cheek just below the bandage and whispered something that Jack couldn't hear. Daniel thanked her with a smile that seemed wrong without his eyes visible to complete the expression. 

"I will abide by your wishes, DanielJackson though Fleming does not deserve it," Teal'c said. 

"Thanks, Teal'c, I appreciate it. You two have a safe flight." 

"Good bye, Colonel, will you keep us informed?" Carter asked Jack. 

"Count on it. We'll see you in a few days." 

Carter made polite good-byes to Fraser and Kowalski and then Jack walked them out of the room. When he came back in, he found Kowalski occupying Daniel's personal space again. 

"I'm sorry about what happened, Daniel," Ray said. "I tried to get out of the bathroom but the door just wouldn't budge." 

"There was nothing you could've done. You were locked away and you were handcuffed, you hardly owe me an apology." 

"I still can...I can hear it and I just wanted you to know..." 

Daniel shook his head, which was immediately followed by him clenching his hands. Kowalski's apology was adding stress, not helping, regardless of his intention so Jack intervened. 

"Hey, what's say we let Daniel get some rest, huh? He's still got the concussion thing going on, not to mention the rest of it." 

"That's a good idea," Fraser agreed. 

Ray pressed the palm of his free hand against Daniel's forehead gently. "Yeah, you're right. I'll talk to you soon, Daniel." 

"Thanks for coming. And, uh, Ray..." 

"Yeah, I'm still here." 

"If I had to be kidnapped...well, you were good company." 

"Me too, just let's not rush out and do it again, okay?" 

"Deal," Daniel said. 

They were interrupted from any further gushing when Daniel's doctor came in. Kowalski and Fraser moved out into the hall while Jack stayed, hoping they'd finally get Daniel's eye problem straightened out. 

* * *

Ben 

Ben stayed silent but watchful as Ray re-connected with Doctor Jackson. Ray had been distraught when they arrived home the night before, consumed with guilt at not being able to keep the other man safe. Ben understood. Daniel Jackson was the civilian and Ray was the police detective so it would have been automatic for him to want to protect. 

"It's not like he was helpless or hiding behind me or anything like that," Ray had said. "He didn't seem like he needed me to protect him but I needed it, you know, I should've taken the brunt of it." 

Ben had tried to reassure him. After all, Fleming was focused on Doctor Jackson far more than he was focused on Ray. And Ray had been sick which was simply unpreventable. But even as Ray agreed with the rationale, Ben could tell he wasn't satisfied. 

When all the arguments had been exhausted, Ben did the only thing he could. He held him, offering physical support when words failed and nearly triggering a breakdown of his own. He had forced the fear back while he searched for Ray but with the danger over, all the unacknowledged terror had flooded to the fore. For Ray's sake, he kept his anguish to himself but it had been difficult. 

Standing in the hall outside Doctor Jackson's room, Ben couldn't help feeling relieved at the way Ray's apology had been accepted. Doctor Jackson obviously understood the circumstances of his injuries and held no ill feelings towards Ray. In fact, he seemed to have genuine affection for Ray, which might rankle in Ben's baser emotions, but was still good to see. 

"I still can't get over that we both knew Fleming," Ray said, interrupting Ben's thoughts. 

"I don't know that it's so odd. It's a coincidence to be sure but we're nearing forty years old, we've known hundreds of individuals in our lives, it doesn't seem quite so impossible, does it?" 

"It's like that Kevin Bacon game, where everybody can somehow be traced back to him." 

"Yes, I guess it is." 

"Man, when you came knocking, though, and talking about knowing him, I couldn't believe it." 

They fell into silence. Both men leaned against a wall, standing close enough but not too close to draw attention. Ray scratched absently inside the sling and Ben thanked the heavens that his partner was there, that they'd arrived in time, that soon he could take him back to the safety of their home. 

Jack came out a few moments later, looking tired but grinning. 

"Vision's a little blurry, well more blurry than usual without his glasses, but the doctor doesn't see any permanent damage. We just have to wait for the swelling to go down." 

"That's very good news," Ben said. 

"Yeah, it is," Ray agreed, flashing a real smile. "A big relief." 

"I need to get back in there but I know he appreciates you coming by." 

"Do you know when you're heading back to Colorado?" Ray asked. 

"Not yet. Probably tomorrow or the next day. If they asked Daniel, it'd be now." 

"He doesn't like Chicago," Ray said seriously. 

"Who can blame him?" Jack was being flippant but there was an underlying truth there too. "Anyway, I'm heading in..." 

"Uh, Colonel," Fraser interrupted. "Has there been any news about Colonel Forrester?" 

"He's been arrested. Without the negative though, all we have is Fleming's word that he was involved in anything." 

"That's unfortunate because the negative is gone. Apparently, Lydia Fleming had a pipe break in the basement of their house and several storage boxes were destroyed including Todd's hiding place. She didn't want to upset Todd because of his volatility so she never told him." 

"Didn't he notice that the whole box was gone when he went looking?" Jack asked. 

"Apparently, after twenty years, he couldn't remember which box he stored it in. And since Mrs. Fleming is something of a packrat, there was no shortage of boxes to look through. He searched for it unsuccessfully and came to the conclusion that someone had stolen it. Unfortunately, he'd already approached Colonel Forrester at that point." 

"And Forrester had turned it around on him," Ray said. "Not only did he refuse to be blackmailed but he threatened to kill Fleming if the negative wasn't turned over to him. When Connor had the accident and Forrester said that he caused it, Todd panicked." 

Jack rubbed his neck with a sigh. "The police listed Connor Fleming's accident as an accident so unless they come up with a witness or evidence, they won't be able to hold him for that either. Where are Fleming and Abbott now?" 

"Bud Abbott is in jail. He was denied bail at his hearing," Ben answered. 

"Wait a minute," Ray interrupted. "The other guy, the Stan Laurel guy's name is Bud Abbott? Jeez, it's like old home week, you know, if you lived in the Twilight Zone or something." 

Ben noticed that Jack was staring at Ray, perplexed and Ben guessed that he was mirroring that expression. Ray didn't notice for a moment then he looked up. 

"Oh, sorry. When I was a little kid, the head nun at my school assigned me a tutor after I fell out of the classroom window..." 

"Fell out of a..." 

"Later, Frase. Anyway, the tutor was a few years older and he used to sock me if I didn't get the answers right. Hurt like hell when he'd nail my broken arm, let me tell you. When my mom, who never cared about privacy by the way, noticed the bruises, she made me tell her what happened and the kid got expelled and then he transferred to public school. Laurel tried to tell me who he was but I didn't remember it until I heard his name just now. I guess he didn't exactly outgrow the whole bully thing." 

"Once a creep, always a creep," Jack said. 

"Not true," Ben disagreed. "But, accurate in this instance." 

"Another Kevin Bacon moment." Ray grinned at his joke. 

"I got another one for you. Colonel Forrester was my C.O. just before he retired," Jack said. "But as interesting as this little trip down memory lane is, Abbott's in jail and Fleming is where?" 

"He's been transferred to the county mental health facility for further evaluation," Ben answered. "They fear he may be suicidal at this point." 

"He's not nuts, he's faking it," Ray said. 

"The prevailing theory is that he feels guilty over the injuries to his son." 

"He should, the moron. Blackmailing somebody when you don't even have the goods, what kind of an idiot does something like that?" 

No one responded to the rhetorical question. 

"Okay, well, thanks for the update," Jack said. "I'm going back in and see how Daniel is making out with the doctor." 

"The lieutenant will be sending somebody over to take statements," Ray said. 

"Yeah, I figured that. Thanks again." 

With that, Jack returned to Daniel's room. 

Ben turned to Ray. "Fell out of a classroom window?" 

"Boy, you're hanging on to that one, aren't you?" Ben only raised his eyebrows. "Okay, okay, the way my mom tells it I was trying to touch a tree and I just tumbled out. Scared her and Sister Mary Katherine and broke my arm to boot. Kid stuff." 

Ray broke away and started towards the elevator while Ben followed. "Most children manage to stay inside the classrooms." 

"I'm unique." 

"You also never mentioned that you had a run-in with a bully." 

"Ben, I was skinny with thick glasses, I had a lot of run-ins. Bud Abbott was just the first in a long line. But, don't you worry, they tended to underestimate me." 

"Something I would certainly never do." 

"I hope not." 

* * *

Daniel 

"Jack, the nurses have taken their evening rounds, Sam and Teal'c and the General are safely back at Cheyenne Mountain and I'm pretty certain we can't expect a visit from Ray or Constable Fraser. If we're going to talk, this is the time." 

The bandages over Daniel's eyes had been replaced but Jack hadn't left him all day for more than half an hour and Daniel was grateful. Temporary or not, being blind was just disconcerting. 

"You're right, this is probably the best time." 

Daniel sighed, relieved to have that victory, at least. 

"I love you," Daniel said. 

"I love you too." 

Daniel couldn't help hearing the misery in Jack's voice. 

"But you're not gay," Daniel said, guessing at the problem. 

"I am, well, bi, at any rate. I've had other relationships with men. They've been brief and never with someone I work with." 

"Is that what's troubling you so much?" 

"Partly." 

"Okay, what's the rest of it?" 

"There are a couple of realities that are not conducive to happily ever afters, Daniel. One, I'm in the Air Force and they don't take kindly to homosexual relationships. Two, you're married and every time we go through the gate, you're hoping to find your wife and Skaara. Hell, I'm hoping to find them. Those are pretty big obstacles to overcome." 

"I know what you're saying is true. But, as far as the Air Force goes, don't they have that whole 'don't ask, don't tell' thing? I mean I'm not going to tell and I wouldn't want to be obvious at work anyway. There's a time and place, Jack, and inside the mountain isn't either of those things. I'm not... I would never ask you to come out to the people we work with." 

"All right, say we could keep the secret and I think we can, I really do, what about obstacle number two." 

"She's not an obstacle, Jack, she's my wife. And I'm not saying I don't have concerns about that. When I was with her, we were happy. She's passionate and gentle and unbelievably kind so...yes, she's part of this. But, Jack, as much as I love Sha're, it was never the kind of love that I have for you. With her, it was almost like an extremely close friendship with...I don't know..." 

"Fringe benefits?" Jack offered. 

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that but, well, kind of, yeah, I guess, in a way. The point is, I love her and I will continue to search for her and I want her to be free but...I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. And I'd really, really like us to be together." 

"What about when we find her? I can't start this knowing there's no future in it." 

"When we find her and we will, I have to keep believing that, then I'll talk to her and I'll make her understand that I love her but it just isn't the same with her as it is with you." 

"It won't be that simple, Daniel. Sha're has been under Goa'uld influence for a long time. She's not going to be the same when she comes back." 

"Look, I can't plan for every eventuality. All I can tell you is that I won't forfeit us for her. I won't desert her but I'm not moving back to Abydos, I'm not capable of being her husband anymore. I want my future to be with you." 

The quiet loomed between them. Daniel could practically hear Jack processing this information. When Jack spoke again, his voice was softer. 

"There's something else." 

"Your thing for Sam?" 

"Oh, for crying out loud, I do not have a thing for Sam. God, why does everyone think that?" 

"I'm just kidding," Daniel said with a grin. 

Jack sighed. "All right, then, it's not about Sam. It's about something that happened, something that you don't know...well, you do know but you don't really...oh, hell, all right, here it is. When you were fourteen, Fleming attacked you in a diner. You all were having dinner and he started something and then..." 

"That was you? The, uh, ensign or..." 

"Do you mind, I was a Second Lieutenant. Yes that was me." 

"Wow, small world, huh?" 

"I left you there, Daniel. I didn't do anything after giving a statement to the cops. I just went back to my life and forgot all about you." 

"Do you have any idea what the odds are against something like that? Sam could probably tell us. That's amazing that we had a run-in like that." 

"You're missing the point." Jack sounded irritated. "I left you in his care." 

"Come on, Jack, you can't be serious. You didn't leave me behind, you got involved. You did a lot more than anybody else, believe me." 

"It wasn't enough." 

"If you had contacted Social Services, they would have pulled me out of his house, Jack." 

"I know. That's what I'm saying." 

"And then they would've started moving me around until another family decided to keep me for more than a few weeks or a few months. All the stability I had with the Flemings would've been erased and I would've had to start over. Todd was a bastard but waking up in the same house every day, seeing the same people, having the same teachers at school...it was better than what I'd had before." 

"You shouldn't have had to take abuse just to keep the same bed," Jack said. 

"No, of course not. No kid should have to make that kind of distinction. But, reality is what it is, and that was mine. I could've made a complaint against Todd. I could've asked to be moved to a new home, but I chose not to. I chose the Flemings for the positive things I had with them." 

"I let you down." 

"No you didn't. Believe me, Jack. It's the same as what you were trying to tell me before all this mess happened. I'm not to blame for my parent's death. I wish I could've saved them but I couldn't, and you couldn't save me all those years ago. Hell, back then, society barely even recognized child abuse as a problem. There was no reason for you to do anything more than what you did." 

More silence while Daniel waited for Jack to assess. He hoped that Jack was willing to put aside the "diner" incident. 

"So," Jack said. "The Air Force, Sha're, a fight in a diner and you still think we can be together." 

"I know we can." 

Daniel heard the rustle of clothing and then he felt Jack's mass move closer to him. There was just a moment of nothing but the sound of breathing before he felt soft lips pressing against his own. It was almost chaste. 

"You have to be sure, Daniel." 

"You do too, Jack." 

"Are we? Are you?" 

"Kiss me again." 

His mouth was engulfed for a second time and it wasn't chaste or soft but it was gentle and sweet with just a hint of tongue against his lips. Daniel pressed back as best he could until Jack pulled away. Daniel swept his fingers awkwardly along the rough line of day old whiskers on Jack's cheek. 

"I'm sure I love you," Daniel whispered. "Whatever it takes for us to be together, I can do. I don't know if you've noticed but I can be pretty determined when I want something." 

"I've noticed." Jack kissed him again. They were both surprised when Daniel yawned. 

"Oh, God, I'm sorry." Daniel was mortified. 

"Very flattering, Daniel." 

"No, you kiss great, I'm just...I'm..." 

"Hurt, on pain meds, getting over being kidnapped and drugged, coming to grips with your past, that about cover it?" 

"I guess so," Daniel said. 

"Go to sleep. We're good. We got a lot on the table tonight and we'll have more time tomorrow." 

"You kiss great." 

"I'm not insecure, Daniel. Just relax and go to sleep." 

"You should go to your hotel. You've gotta be as wiped out as I am." 

"You first. And don't start thinking about lullabyes, I do not sing." 

"That much, I know," Daniel teased as he willed himself to settle despite the excited jitters racing around his stomach. He had dreamed of this, of calling Jack his own but he'd never dared believe it could happen. 

* * *

Ben-Three Months Later 

Ben double-checked the spaghetti sauce simmering in the crock pot and set about putting the salad together before their guests arrived. They were expecting Jack and Daniel within the half hour and he wanted everything to be ready. All four men were set to testify at Bud Abbott's trial over the next few days and Ray and Daniel had to give depositions regarding Todd Fleming's mental state for his competency hearing. 

The four men had spoken several times over the last few months, keeping in touch as the kidnapping case was solidified. Consequently, they'd developed a friendship of sorts though Jack remained somewhat aloof. Ben suspected the man just didn't make friends easily and Ben could relate to that. 

At any rate, both Ben and Ray were looking forward to seeing them. 

Ray came out of the bedroom dressed in faded blue jeans but no shirt. His chest and hair were still damp from the shower as he rubbed a towel haphazardly over his head. In his free hand he clutched a white t-shirt. 

They would be dressed similarly for the evening since Ben wore blue jeans also, though his white t-shirt was long sleeved. 

"Dinner smells good. I got too busy to stop for lunch today and I'm starved," Ray said. 

"I'll start the pasta as soon as they arrive." 

"I hope it's soon. Let me just get the spikes in place and I'll give you a hand." Ray finished rubbing furiously at his hair leaving tufts standing in the wake of the towel. Those bits of fluff would soon be the spikes that Ray referred to. He wandered back into the bedroom pulling the t-shirt over his head as he went. 

Ben just shook his head feeling suddenly affectionate towards his companion. Occasionally the love he felt for him would make Ben's breath go short but he reveled in the sensation. 

Before the kidnapping, Ray had been restless and anxious to go public with their relationship. But since then, he seemed happier and more content with what they had. Ben felt the same way. They had almost lost everything so it made the concessions they currently lived with seem inconsequential. 

"Oh, drat," Ben murmured when he heard the knock at the door. He wanted to be more prepared before their arrival. 

He opened the door with Diefenbaker at his heel, sniffing curiously at the smell of new people. Ben was surprised to see a lone individual with longish hair and glasses standing outside. It took a moment for him to realize that he was seeing the real Daniel Jackson. He hadn't seen him before except when he was swollen and pale and bruised, with eyes covered by heavy bandages. Dressed in tan slacks and a blue button down shirt, he looked like a different person. 

"Hi, Ben," Daniel said, somewhat distractedly as he glanced down the hall. "Jack will be here in a minute." 

"Where is he?" 

"He forgot the wine we brought for dinner." 

"Ah, well, that was unnecessary but certainly thoughtful of you. Would you like to come in or wait out here for him?" 

"Oh, he'll find his way." Daniel walked into the apartment. "Smells good in here." 

"Thank you. Ray should be out in a minute. Why don't we have a seat in the living room while we..." Ben was interrupted by a second knock. 

"There's Jack," Daniel said as he patted Diefenbaker on the head. Dief abandoned sniffing him for the new arrival. 

Ben shook Jack's hand, noting that he looked different as well. The dark circles and stress lines had faded from his face. 

"Evening, Ben, here's some wine for dinner, damn, it smells good in here." 

"Thank you kindly. Daniel is in the living room and Ray..." 

"Is right here. Hi guys," Ray said as he emerged with spiky hair looking perfect. 

While everyone else exchanged pleasantries, Ben found himself standing beside his father who was staring at Jack O'Neill. 

"That one is all right for a Yank, son, you sure you wouldn't like to give him a go, over your partner, I mean." 

"Quite sure, dad," Ben murmured, glaring at his father's ghost. 

"Oh, I know he's a little older but I was older than your mother so..." 

"Well, then, there you go," Ben said. 

"Yes, I suppose so," Bob agreed though Ben had no idea what part of that conversation had satisfied him. 

Ben went back into the kitchen to start the pasta. He ended up finishing all the preparations while Ray entertained. Bob continued hovering, suggesting improvements to the sauce and making the occasional comparison between Ray and Jack. Ben was relieved when dinner was finally ready for the table. 

"Ah, it's hell being dead, son. Can't even smell your dinner, let alone taste it. Well, I'm not going to stand around here and be tortured." Bob disappeared. 

Ben rolled his eyes. "He comes, he goes, not a word of warning." 

"Need some help?" Ray asked, eyeing him suspiciously. 

"Salad's in the refrigerator." 

Once the food was on the table and all the men had gathered, it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to the business reason for Jack and Daniel's visit. 

"Todd won't be at the deposition, right?" Daniel asked. He had asked Ben the same question on the phone two days before. 

"Right," Ray said. "He's still in the cracked egg basket getting evaluated. All we're going to do is give a statement." 

"That he doesn't belong there, he belongs in prison," Daniel clarified. 

"Right. They've got our initial statements but now they have to make a final decision. We're just going to make sure he doesn't slip through the net." 

"Lydia called a few days ago and Connor is better. He's still doing physical therapy but he's gone back to work." 

"It's a good thing he has her. His father almost got him killed," Jack grumbled. 

"Todd didn't have any use for me, Jack but he loved Connor." 

Jack sat forward, tearing a slice of French bread in half. "He's an alcoholic, drug addict with violent tendencies and he still managed to be a foster parent." 

Daniel stared straight at Jack as he spoke, "He and Lydia are both college graduates. He served in the military. Between their jobs, they were making more than sixty thousand dollars a year, which was an amazing amount for the seventies. He didn't have a criminal background. They were probably ideal candidates for the foster program." 

"Somebody should've looked deeper," Jack said. 

"He did put up a convincing faade," Ben said. "My father trusted him and they would spend weeks together. My grandparents liked him as well." 

"My mum interviewed him and she liked him too. After the whole tutoring thing, she was extra careful so I know she spent some time with him. And you know, I took lessons for almost a year and until the day he kicked me out, I thought he was great." 

"I should've reported him," Daniel said. "I didn't do anything until the day I left for college and even at that, all I did was write a letter. Maybe if I'd done more, then none of the rest would've happened." 

"You were sixteen, Daniel. You did what you could." Jack paused to take a bite of spaghetti. After he swallowed he said, "Did we tell you that we contacted Daniel's social worker?" Ben and Ray shook their heads in the negative. "The letter he wrote got the Flemings disqualified for taking any other children in. No legal charges were filed but at least his letter kept them from hurting another kid." 

Daniel turned his attention to his plate, obviously embarrassed. 

"Well done," Ben said then dropped the subject. 

"Let's have a toast then," Ray said, raising his glass. "Here's to one week from today when Todd Fleming will be locked up with Bubba, the lonely cell mate and Bud Abbott will be housed right beside him." 

Ben smiled as he raised his glass. He didn't know if Ray's prediction would come true but for now, at least, they could believe. 

Note: Kurt Alan Stand and Theresa Squillacote are not fictional. They were arrested in 1997 by the FBI. Stand was charged with being an agent for the East German government. He was recruited around 1972. Squillacote was recruited by Stand sometime just before or after their marriage in 1980. Directed by her East German contacts, Squillacote, an attorney, worked for the Defense Department from 1993 to January 1997. 

* * *

End Connected Lives by Elizabeth Mc:

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